Work Text:
Soft California twilight. Dusty Rover with South Dakota tags.
Thin, bronze man. Waiting.
Forbidding building. Fences, concertina wire. Narrow window slits. Artificial light flooding throughout.
Beaten, faded man. Walking.
Two men, meeting.
“Roy. Good to see ya.” Quietly, brief handclasp pulled into stiff hug.
“Johnny. Thanks. Sorry you had – ”
Head shake. “Stop it.”
Silence.
Small smile. “The Rover?”
“Yep. Where’s your pleasure?”
Desperately: “Nowhere to go.”
Firmly: “Yeah, you do. With me. Back to the reservation.”
Moon rise over prison towers. Start of a second, new life with the only good of the first, the old.
Two men, together.