lasthalfmile: (thought process)
After he and Ben return to the bar, Dan makes a quick trip upstairs to settle Bogart back into his room.

Once the pig is safely in his crate, Dan changes his clothes and returns downstairs, heading straight for the Bar, looking for his son. He has to be here somewhere, and if Dan has to tear the bar apart at dinner hour to find him, then so be it.



[Open 'til his next one.]
lasthalfmile: (head down)
"Never thought I'd see you again, Evans. Of all people."

"It has been awhile."
read more )
lasthalfmile: (footprints in dust)
He's pacing the floor in the hallway, the dull sounds of his boots echoing his awkward step pattern seem to almost make his limp worse, but he's so damn on edge he can't bear to sit down. The tile is worn, and he's well aware that he's probably not the first man to drive the doctors that work here crazy but he doesn't give a damn.

cut )
lasthalfmile: (damn it's cold)
Someone is whistling.

cut )
lasthalfmile: (rooftops)
He's gotten himself into quite a routine during his time so far in Milliways, even if it's far from ordinary or anything you could set a watch by in regards to consistency. Dan doesn't need to sleep. He never really gets hungry, but there are occasional cravings. Whiskey burns his throat but doesn't dull his senses -- it takes a few shots of the wine of the 'gods' to do that.

But in regards to his routine )
lasthalfmile: (man in black)
The town is quiet, today.

Between the funeral and the heat, most folks are either inside or busy with things. The main street is nearly deserted, as they head down, horses stirring up the soft dust beneath their hoofs as they walk.

The office is at the end of town.

Dan can only hear Mark's voice in his head. So young. So confused.

He keeps one hand on the reins, and the other slides down to his hip and the pistol, fingertips brushing the holster, checking to be sure that familiar weight is still there. He's not planning on killing anyone, but he won't hesitate to threaten with it if he has to.

They head around the back of the office, and Dan signals for them to be quiet. He can hear voices from inside.

"So you say the coach should be in this afternoon?"

"Butterfield himself ordered a new one sent out. I guess he had a back up in case Wade took out the first."

"He's not worried about him now that he's out?"

"He doesn't know. Figured might as well just let him find out when he gets in from Fort Huachuca this afternoon. Guess he wanted to ride with it to make sure it got here in once piece. With Wade's gang gone, should be in right on time."


Dan turns his head and gives Ben a look, as if to ask if he caught all that. The fort was to the west of Bisbee but there was only one way into town through the canyon that was north of Bisbee.

And Ben knew that canyon well.
lasthalfmile: (man in black)
Sleeping on the ground is an experience in itself that Dan finds he's missed. The stiffness in his neck, the chill in his bones, the fine layer of dust and ash that ends up covering his clothes and bare skin is all proof that he's actually here, in the flesh.

So to speak.

The desert is quiet at sunrise, and Dan's already up. The horses are fed and the fire is stoked just enough to last them an hour or two while they get ready. Once Ben is up, it doesn't take long for him to eat and pack up their things, saddle up the horses.

"Don't think it'll be quite as hot today."

Plus, Bisbee is up in a canyon, almost a mile high. The air is cooler up there so the sweat shouldn't be quite so bad, especially with the early start to cover the last bit of distance before they make it into town. After last night's conversation, Dan finds himself thinking about this entire trip.

He's actually going to his own funeral.

He's quieter than he was yesterday, as they get ready to head out.
lasthalfmile: (man in black)
The saloon they walk into from the Bar isn't really a surprise, not when Dan knows Ben's tastes in both liquor and women. What's more surprising to Dan is the fact that stepping out of the door actually results in his feet touching the ground somewhere just south of the border of Arizona, in Mexico. He's actually here. Physically.

He's dead.

This should not be possible.

Ben is walking in front of him, and Dan holds his hat tucked under his arm. The clothes he got from the Bar feel strange, but they work. He changed the white shirt for a black one at the last minute -- after all, if he is going to look like part of Ben Wade's newest outfit, he might as well really look the part.

What Dan hasn't realized, however, is the fact that in stepping through the door, something else has changed. His facial hair is gone, and his hair is shorter than he kept it when he was alive. Bar apparently felt just a clothes wouldn't do.

One hand brushes out against a wooden pylon as he walks past, and when his fingers don't sink through it, he lets the barest hint of a smile sneak onto his face for a second, before it's gone.

"Didn't think this was actually gonna work."
lasthalfmile: (looking up)
There's nothing remarkable about the room he stays in when he's feeling like he needs to be a bit 'normal', but Dan Evans has never been a man in search of the finer things in life. Sure, he'd like to live in a fine house with nice things, but he's not kidding himself when it comes to two facts:

He can't afford it, and, he's dead.

Simple works for him. )
lasthalfmile: (last look)
He can't even feel the bullet wounds anymore. All he can think about is the faint hiss in his ears, from the steam train's engine somewhere off to his left. The ground is hard. The sky is blue. His son is looking down at him with that look.

He's hurt bad and he knows it.

But they got there. He got Wade to the train. They'll send the money home with his boy and they'll go on without him.

Without --


-- darkness.
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