Kinds long time ago, my friends and I came up with the western au Dirk\Roxy. We didn't really think it through, but I drew a lot from them because of the wild West atmosphere :]
Things were down to the wire, and they were all scrambling. Everything was an endless loop of sound and violence and flashes of power. Roxy was exhausted. Mentally, physically, emotionally, and a number of other ways that, frankly, she hadn’t known were possible.
She was huddled behind a ruined building, frantically trying to make more ammo to launch another attack. Something streaks through her peripheral vision, getting closer, and immediately she drops what she’s doing and fumbles for the only weapon she can use at the moment to swing at some fuck awful version of Jack Noir looming over her. She pulls Dirk’s — No, Bro, Dave’s Bro, not Dirk, not really— sword from her sylladex, jabs it towards Jack, and hopes for the best. Years of fighting drones do not fail her, and the sword pierces his carapace. She twists, yanks, and then drops the sword again, watching Jack fall as she wipes blood from her eyes and sets to work filling her rifles back up once more. But when she’s finished, she re-captchas the sword. It might come in handy, and she’s sort of attached to it at this point.
As luck would have it, before the battle is over, she runs out of bullets again, and pulls out the sword. Desperate times, desperate measures. When everything was finally done and the last enemy was bleeding out on the battlefield, Roxy collapsed against the nearest wall, discarded guns at her feet, sash wrapped sword bloodied and laid across her thighs. They would all celebrate, but they needed rest first. A few spare moments of peace to breathe and tend to wounds and just be. Roxy shut her eyes, and felt a body slide down next to hers. She didn’t move to look. She knew who it was. An arm reached around her, pulling her over and tucking her head against it’s owner.
“You used my sword.” Dirk says, finally, after several long and silent moments.
“It’s technically not yours yours but… yeah. I mean, work with what you got, right?” Roxy doesn’t move or look up, simply taking advantage of Dirk letting her be this close, and presses her face to his neck.
“Sure but… why do you have an unbreakable katana in the first place?”
“When-” her voice falters, and she feels a hand squeeze her shoulder “When I left my timeline, after my bargain was made… I thought it was possible I’d lost you all. Forever. And the sword was there and it made me think of you and even though I knew it wasn’t yours… I took it. It was a gravemarker for a while, but then shit happened and it wasn’t so I picked it up again.”
“Time travel is bullshit.”
“A hundred and ten fucking percent.”
“I’m surprised you could use it.”
“Don’t be so smug. It’s a sharp stick. Plus aren’t rogues like, almost the exact same thing as pirates? I’m basically a pirate okay, of course I can use a stupid sword.”
“I like that you kept it, Roxy.”
Roxy finally cracks an eye open then, taking in Dirk’s bruised and battered form. Blood sticks to her eyelashes, and she doesn’t even know whose it is.
“Your tiara looks stupid.” she smiles, looking exhausted, and leans further into his shoulder. Dirk rolls his eyes behind his shades and reaches over, tugging her mask down off her face, wiping away some of the blood in the process. She grimaces, then yanks his shades off. Before he can protest she shakes her head “Fair’s fair.”
“Yeah, okay, but only because I’m too fuckin’ tired to argue with you.”
“So what do you think we do now? I mean… the others, cept I guess Jake and Jade sorta… they all had lives before this. Families. We just… had this.” Roxy frowns.
“We do what we’ve done for the past sixteen or so years. We just keep going.” Dirk’s face was set, his eyes and mouth stern but kind.
Roxy nodded, and tentatively reached for his hand. He let her lace their fingers together, and squeezed them reassuringly. There was a lot to do still, a whole world to rebuild, but then there’d yet to be anything they couldn’t do together.
