het_reccers | Some roads only go one way, by seriousfic (r)

Fandom Category: Cowboys and Aliens (2011)
Pairing: Ella Swenson/Jake Lonergan
Fic Title: Some roads only go one way
Author:

seriousfic
Link: http://seriousfic.livejournal.com/582417.html
Rating/Warning(s): R, for sex, and minor character death.
Genre: Post-movie, drama
WIP?: no

Why This Must Be Read: Without spoiling the ending of the movie, this fic is a lovely continuation of the story, picking up an obvious loophole thread in the ending and unraveling a plot that I think does wonderful justice to these two. Plus, Jake's affections were so well-played and obvious in the movie that you sorta want the story to unfold this way. Ella's voice is just the right pitch, and the writing sells you the tale of something you'd expect in the west in 1870s. Y'know, without all those aliens.

Jake drinks. A lot of men do, but he does it right, knocking back shots like they were bullets in a cylinder. He doesn't even realize he's drunk until Ella is waving off the bartender.

They're in a whorehouse, so if Ella were any proper lady she'd be scandalized, but she actually seems appreciative of the low-cut dresses and garter belts. Probably high fashion where she's from. Jake had thought she just wanted a drink too, but no, she's guarding him like an extra on a wagon train.

"That's half the bounty on the Ape Kid," she says, nodding at the empty shotglasses lined up, headstones in a graveyard.

"You saving up for something?"

"Come on." She tugs on his arm and, yeah, she's stronger than she looks. He goes along. "You've practically given yourself alcohol poisoning."

"The hell's that?"

"It's a thing," she hisses, batting aside hookers so they can get upstairs, pushing him into a bedroom and dropping him on a mattress that smells of cheap perfume and cheaper women. The world had started swirling when Jake got up and it doesn't let up, staying stubbornly out of focus while Ella pulls his boots off.

"What are you doing?" he asks.

"I'm doing nothing. You're sleeping it off." She takes his gunbelt too, slinging it over her shoulder and now standing in front of the door. He knows he'll probably wake up to find her in the same spot. "Are all humans so self-destructive?"

"No. Think I'm special." He flopped his head back and felt the stiff bed resist his weight. The ceiling was familiar. The patterns of vines and flowers—he must've spent hours in a bed like this one, Alice against him and into him like an opiate. "This was where she worked. This damn whorehouse. I must've visited it a hundred times. I just remembered."

Ella tilts her head oddly, a bit sympathetically, and sits beside him. He can't quite get the hang of lifting his head up, so all he sees is the curve of her back and her unfettered hair. "Everyone else has remembered. It's been months. You should have everything back."

"Well, I don't," he snaps. She's still. Doesn't even wince at his raised voice. He feels like hell, but maybe it's just the whiskey gathering up in his gut. He wouldn't have yelled at Alice. "Maybe it's a blessing. There're things I can do without remembering."