Liz found herself shaky and worn out, palms clinging to the toilet bowl as a foul taste of her morning drinks mixed with bile settled in her mouth. No matter how frequent these waves came on Liz was sure she'd never be comfortable throwing up. The queasiness hadn't quite settled, her unborn son deciding this was the perfect time to do somersaults was doing all but help, but she was sure she had no more vomits left in her. She flushes the toilet before pushing herself up to her feet with a strained groan. She was sure she would never get used to standing up being a chore either. She didn't need the mirror to know she was pale and sweaty.
The woman makes her way to the sink outside the stalls, taking a minute to take a few breaths before washing her hands and splashing some cool water on her face. She then checks through the front parts of her hair to make sure it hadn't caught any of her stomach contents. Thank goodness it was all clear, unfortunately the other option happened on more opportunities than she was willing to admit. Luckily she kept a container of gum with her for times like this. She digs through her handbag and pulls out the little container. The lack of a clacking sound of hard pieces of gum hitting each other was concerning. Unfortunately her fears were made true when she popped open the lid to find it empty. She swore under her breath and instead resigned to washing her mouth out with the tap water in the bathroom. She hoped that would be enough, at least until she found someone with a piece of gum to share.
With a cleansing breath the woman wiped her face once more. She was no longer sweaty and shaky but she knew she'd be pale until the nausea disappeared and that would likely take a while longer. With a sigh she exited the bathroom and hoped she could find somewhere to sit.
Valen didn’t waste time waiting for a reply before he headed inside. The bar was packed—as expected—with locals trying to escape the heat. His own shoulders loosened under the racketing air conditioner, and he stood at the entrance longer than necessary, relishing the feel of sweat cooling his brow.
Of course, he didn’t miss the appearance of a man he vaguely knew to be Clive Evermore—it was part of his job to familiarize himself with the townsfolk who had a rap sheet. Pines Hollar housed more colorful folks than one would expect from a small town, although Valen had learned long ago that Pines was a far cry from quaint or wholesome. That probably played a large part in why he’d stayed—his own brand of personal punishment.
Then he’d met Dallas.
Dallas, who was occupying a booth directly across from where the ex-con was standing. Crouched down or not, Valen would recognize her familiar blonde waves anywhere. He felt his jaw twitch as Clive struck up a conversation with her, the man looking at her in a way Valen didn’t care for one bit. Clive was older than Valen, for starters, and had done five years in prison for assault and battery.
He didn’t want to acknowledge the subtle parallels between them; regardless, a man like that shouldn’t be anywhere near Dallas.
Before he could dwell on why she was hiding, or what a guy like Clive Evermore wanted with her in the first place, movement to his left drew his eye. His eyebrows rose as one of the few people in town he got on with exited the bathroom. She looked pale and worn down, the sight enough to make Valen cross the floor without hesitation. Dallas would have to wait.
“Hey, stranger. It’s been a while; you and the baby holding up all right in this heat?” he asked carefully, his hands hovering, unsure whether to offer aid.
Liz steps were slow, accompanied with slow breaths as she attempted to lessen the nausea by any means necessary. She was mere steps out of the door when Valen approached her. The prior conversation- or at least the connotation of Valen's role in the end of his prior relationship- had somehow released itself from her mind. “Officer, long time no see,” she greets gently, the only way she could manage at that moment. She notices his hands floating nearby. “There's no need for that, I'm pregnant, not elderly,” she half-jokes with a small smile, although she leans herself against the wall. Maybe she needed more physical support than she wanted to admit- A classic move of hers. “I appreciate the offer though. We're fine, both me and baby, just escapin’ the heat like every other person in this town it seems.”
Her green eyes scan their surroundings until they spot an empty table with a couple of chairs. The woman would've preferred a booth so she could spread out a bit or maybe partially lay down but at this point she was going to take what she could get. “I- uh- mind if we head over to that table over there? I just really need to sit. This pregnancy is knocking me around worse than last time,” Liz complains, flashing Valen a forced smile. She goes back to her methodical steps albeit walking somewhat faster than before. She felt disgusting, she hated it but it wasn't really a new experience. “What brings you boys in today? Tryin’ to escape the heat too?
The corners of his mouth lifted at her response. Valen let his hands drop lightly to his sides before attempting to smooth out his expression. He wasn’t convinced how well he’d managed it as his sharp gaze caught on the woman, resting briefly against the wall.
He cleared his throat, moving his arms loosely across his chest—if only to keep them from reaching out again once she began to move. “Fair enough. Of course, please,” he replied, giving his head a slight bow of acknowledgement before following her to the table—closer than he should have, but he allowed enough space to not be entirely obvious. He knew better than to poke a bear, but his conscience wouldn’t let up entirely. At any rate, he’d dealt with bigger bears.
He stepped around her once they’d almost reached the table, scraping the chair out for Liz. He shrugged, avoiding her eyes. “Call me old-fashioned,” he said preemptively, his fingers absently drumming over the wooden back. He made a noncommittal hum in response to her question, gingerly pushing the chair in once she’d sat down. “Off the record? Absolutely,” he told her with a trace of humor. “But officially, this wouldn’t be the worst spot for trouble,” he added, his gaze flickering against his will toward the felon across the room. He straightened his posture, turning to nod in the direction of the bar. “Get you a drink? I heard lemonade works wonders for morning sickness.”
“Thanks, Old fashioned,” Liz jokes back. She attempts to meet his gaze but notices it everywhere but toward her. What was he scared of? Something she'd think? Something her husband may do simply at another man be chivalrous toward her? Isaiah was protective, and likely wouldn't hesitate to confront someone crossing the line but pulling out a chair was a far cry from ‘crossing the line’. He was protective, not a jealous teenager. She gave a small “Thanks,” as she slipped into her seat, thankful that most of Husker's seats hadn't given in to the bar trend of being high up.
“We're pretty good at trouble in this town,” Liz muses, the hint of a smile curling the sides of her lips. She resisted the urge to press her head against the table, instead leaning against the chair. She leans her head back and takes another drawn out breath, missing Valen's glance toward the ex-Felon only mere tables from them. As she pulls her body somewhat upright, Valen offers her a drink. At his offer of lemonade her face twists for a moment, citrus had left a bad taste in her mouth only moments ago and she was not ready to go back to it. Although Val wasn't wrong about it helping. Recognising she was pulling a face, she quickly tries to relax her expression. “I think I'd be hard-pressed to keep anything down right now, maybe just some iced water, please? I appreciate it, Val. Also, you wouldn't happen to have any gum on you by any chance?”
He let out a gruff laugh at her playful response, his smile coming easier now. “No problem,” he answered. He’d nearly forgotten how uncomplicated it was to talk to Liz—how much he’d missed it while she’d been out. Company was practically non-existent since Molly started airing out how Dallas had become collateral damage in his life. The town wasn’t wrong to judge his actions, but he hardly needed their reinforcement to tell him he’d fucked up—he knew that just fine on his own.
He made a sound of agreement in the back of his throat, offering another short nod as he continued to study her demeanor. “So I’ve come to realize,” he replied with exasperation, not that he appeared deeply bothered by it; if anything, the ‘trouble’ gave him something to focus on that wasn’t the landslide of his personal life. The crime in Pines was mostly petty, anyway—he spent more time busting people for drugs and breaking up domestic disputes than anything high-stakes like back in New York.
He was nodding once more, one boot-clad foot already mid-step when he caught her last request. “Gum? I… do,” he said evenly, retrieving the worn pack of spearmint from one of his many cargo pockets and passing it over. He didn’t volunteer that it was used primarily to hide his drinking habit, which was conveniently irrelevant. “I’ll get you that drink, yeah?” he added after a beat, disappearing for a brief interval before returning with a cold-slicked glass. “Here you are; finest water on tap,” he joked feebly before taking the seat across from her. “...You and your husband doin’ alright? I’d been meaning to swing by and check on you,” he admitted, bracing his forearms on the table—a trait from his job.
“You're a lifesaver,” Liz replies appreciatively as the man passes her the small tattered pack. Despite the man's internal worry, she didn't think twice about why he might have it. She takes a piece out, at least her breath was one less worry in this moment and the gum was somewhat helping alleviate the nausea, if only a little. She gave a chuckle at his small joke before sliding the rest of the gum across the table to him and taking a sip.
Liz subconsciously gave a small sigh at the question as she leaned back in her seat and rested her hands on her stomach. The nausea had somewhat eased and wasn't taking as much out of her. She tried to quickly gauge what the man would know of her life. Isaiah losing his job would have been given. Even if she'd never mentioned his job he often came into the bar with some of the boys from the mill whenever she was working so that would have been no secret. Did Valen come before or after her miscarriage? The days seemed to merge together. “Why wouldn't we be?” she asks lightly.
Valen cocked his head slightly at the return question. He carefully shrugged a shoulder, mirroring her position by leaning back in his chair. The subtle avoidance was telling enough, even if he hadn't suspected the weight they were under.
Reaching for the pack between them, Valen spoke as he unfolded a stick of gum.“Same reason as anyone, I expect. Pregnancy has a lot of highs and lows.” He diverted his gaze to the window, granting her a moment.
Valen wasn't even sure his attempts at being friendly and open came off that way—his cop demeanor was well ingrained in him by this point—but the intention was there.
Liz forced a small smile. Highs and lows felt like an extreme understatement but maybe the couple approaching a pretty hard time dramatised her views of high and low. She shifted in her chair slightly before taking a sip of water. “Fair enough.” she eventually responds to his reply with a shrug. “We're… surviving. Somehow I think we still don't really know what we're doin’, or what to do after he's born. We'll be ‘right though. We're pretty good at pushin’ through lows.” She hoped that was enough to satiate the officer's curiosity or at least put some of his concerns to rest.
She shifts in her chair once more, the faux leather that lined the cushions and low backs were offering little support. “Am I right in sayin’ you're gettin’ close to 4 years here? Haven't thought of runnin’ away yet?” she asks in an attempt to change the subject away from being all about her.
Valen felt his fingers tap against the table, his Adam's apple bobbing at the sudden dryness in his mouth. He kept his gaze on the window. “Surviving is a good start," he said hollowly, running a hand through his hair. "You'll learn as you go. Lows don't last forever, right?” he asked, a tense smile crossing his expression as he met her eyes.
He let out a thin chuckle at the change of topic, just barely resisting the urge to scrub his face. “Yeah… something like that. Time here sort of blurs together," he admitted, letting his hand fall to his knee. He hesitated, swiping his tongue across his teeth before answering. “No—not deeply, anyway. But what can I say? I'm a glutton for punishment.” The corner of his mouth lifted wryly.
Valen adjusted his weight in the chair, his shoulders squaring before he continued. “Look, I don't mean to keep you. Surely you have friendlier faces than mine to occupy your time, but—I'm around if you need anything. Heavy groceries or, hell, cracking open a jar—you can request me through the station. Not trying to step on your husband's toes; just wanted to tell you that myself.”
Lows don’t last forever, a statement Liz wasn’t quite sure was true anymore. Sure, they weren’t always in the pits but the lows always seemed to come back to haunt. That’s why patronage at Huskers was always so high late into the night, why so much of the town self-medicated with alcohol and weed. She was glad Valen humoured her by accepting her change in conversation.
Liz gave a small chuckle. “It hasn’t always been like this. This place has always had its charm- the people too, but the losin’ work and constantly overheatin’ powergrid- that’s new. I reckon they’re tryin’ to choke us out if I’m being honest.” she scratches at some sticky residue on the table. Valen’s offer took the woman aback a bit, leaving her unsure what to make of it. Was he trying to make a ‘better’ image for himself? Find ways to get closer to her and for what reason? She knew ‘carrying heavy groceries’ was far from an officer’s job. For only a moment the corners of her lips upturned in amusement as she wondered how Isaiah would react to the absurdity of her inviting a cop over to open a pickle jar. Looking up at Valen, Liz knew the offers were serious but she also recognised the man was really struggling to build friendships, maybe this was his attempt. “I don’t think I’ll need to call you out to move groceries or open jars but I appreciate the offer of support,” Liz hoped she was picking up what he was trying to say and do rather than getting him wrong and herself in an awkward place.
He gave a measured nod of understanding. Valen hadn't been in Pines long, but the way the town was sliding was hard to miss. While he usually overlooked problems outside his control—he had more than enough of his own mess to contend with—her concern was valid.
Letting out a quiet laugh, he lifted an eyebrow in challenge. “Maybe, maybe not. The last pregnant woman I knew—she might have been exaggerating. She got a sick kick out of stressing me out,” he grunted ruefully, a shadow of a smile flickering to life at a glimpse of memories roped off long ago. He didn’t linger on them before the curve of his mouth shifted, his focus jarring back to the present.
Valen twisted the band on his left hand before clearing his throat, the metal digging into his skin as he tapped the table and slid his chair out. “Well, the offer stands. Dal moved out, so it wouldn’t be a bother. I have more time on my hands than I know what to do with,” he said truthfully, leaving out the part about filling it at the bar. He was doing better about that, although for how long was anyone’s guess.
Liz looked up at him at his mention of the last pregnant woman he knew. Who could he be talking about? A friend, a sibling- she watched his play with his wedding band. Seeming to have a good guess at who the man was hinted at, her face softened. She wanted to ask about it but she knew a public setting probably wasn't the best place to initiate that conversation. Instead she took her cuing from his sliding chair and gave a nod as he doubled down on his offer.
“I should let you get back to your job, I haven't forgotten you're on duty. Thanks for your help, Val.”
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