Bane

January 13, 1998

"I haven't seen it rain like this in a while." Karen stroked David's hair.

"The horror of our duties is drawing to a close. There are so few conjurers left in Driftwood." David held his hand over hers a moment, and then pulled his head off her lap, sitting up.

"Our patrols turn up nothing. Most are dead, and a lot have fled from Colt County altogether. This is what The Order wanted, right? What we wanted. We're winning."

"Yeah. It's just... it feels so empty. Empty city, empty victories. They're not our victories, you know?"

"Theyre victories, David. Who cares who did the fighting?"

"We spent our entire lives fighting something, and what do we do if there's nothing left to fight?"

Karen slid up beside him. "Lots of kids, I expect."

"No. I mean yeah, but it's just so..."

"Empty. I know what you mean, David. I know better than you do."

"That's an exaggeration."

"Pfffpt. You've got a beautiful, gentle heart. You love your station, and hate the consequences of it."

"...and you revel in them."

"So what if I do? We are what we do, baby. You've always known that. Maybe there's a new threat one day, maybe not. If not, we still train. We still raise our own in The Order."

"Driftwood isn't the entirety of the world, Karen. We win a war here. How many things like Bane are out there? How many monsters cross into our world out there, as they do here."

"You miss it."

David nodded. "I hated it, and now it's gone, and I miss it."

"We're married," Karen sighed into David's ear. "We could have kids."

"Right now?"

"No time like the present."

"You know how babies are made, right? They don't just appear."

Karen punched him in the shoulder. "Shut up, and do your duty."

✟ ☧ ✟

It was the crying that woke him up.

David yawned, sitting up in his bed. Karen stirred next to him, clinging to her pillow. She muttered something about food something cooking in the oven.

A baby's voice babbled from down the hall, distant, echoing as though from a great distance. David shifted, the muscles in his back protesting as he did, and hefted his legs over the side out of the bed. He felt the thick shag carpeting beneath his feet.

You don't have shag carpet, David.

A familiar voice in his head. A whisper. A thought not his own.

He stared down at the hardwood floor beneath his feet, felt the cold.

He stood from the bed, and crept in silence for the bedroom door to keep from waking Karen.

Karen's voice was a whisper when it came. "There's nothing out there for you, David."

"I'll be just right back, Karen."

Karen's light snore carried across the room in response. She was sleeping.

They're all sleeping, David. Not you, though. You've always been awake.