slowly i've become undone (n/e) part 1
Title: slowly i’ve become undone (a stranger with a stranger heart)
Author: bugbitten
Rating: R
Warnings: Blood, sweat, and tears.
Disclaimer: I don’t own anything related to Skins, Roswell, or the lyrics I so eagerly stole from Dr. Dog for the title.
Summary: Naomi’s cover gets blown in a way she never expected. But is it the end or a beginning?
Author’s Note: So this is largely inspired by danger_mouse’s expert blending of other sci-fi with Skins, as well as my decade-long soft spot for Roswell. For those of you not familiar, Roswell was an American show on the WB about a decade ago about super good-looking aliens living among us. But it was all about alienation, you see, and who better to understand that than our lovely Naomi Campbell? This starts off with some similarities to Roswell and has throwbacks to Series 3 as well, but I hope to make it truly mine. Please let me know what you think!
Also, I’m looking for someone to be a beta/encourager/sounding board/taskmaster, so if you’re interested please let me know!
1. Naomi.
“Emily Fitch is staring at you again.” Effy’s words, spoken as though delivering the most casual of observations, caused Naomi to look up from her book. She sharply looked over to the girl in mention, but Emily appeared to be deeply engrossed in a conversation with her sister. The only evidence of Effy’s statement was, perhaps, the light blush that stained Emily’s cheeks, and otherwise the fact that Effy was almost never wrong.
“She ought to stop that,” Naomi muttered, and turned back to the text. A-levels were looming nearer and nearer, and she was determined to have her biology down pat. The irony of this desire was not lost on Naomi.
Effy merely chuckled and sauntered off in the direction of the café’s exit. “I’m going to Gina’s. See you.” Naomi didn’t need to look to know that Effy’s deliberately short skirt and fishnets were drawing the attention of other café clientele as she made her way out. The next time she looked up, instead, was when she heard the unmistakable sound of a fist hitting a table.
Out of the corner of her eye, Naomi noticed Emily disappear through the swinging doors in back that led to the loo. The sound, however, had come from her right. Two men in tracksuits, one in white and the other in green, appeared to be having a bit of a row in the midst of the coffee shop.
“I’m warning you, you better pay up,” the particularly scraggly and nasty one snarled.
The huskier one abruptly rose and leaned menacingly over the table. “Gonna make me?” Naomi put down her book entirely, her whole body tensing. Years of paranoia and a vague, impending sense of doom had fine-tuned her fight-or-flight instinct. For once, it was warranted. Scraggly pulled out a gun, waved it menacingly.
Suddenly, every patron in the café was frozen, eyes locked on the situation erupting in the middle of the room. Every patron, that is, except Emily.
It was as though Naomi saw it happen in slow motion. Husky made a move for the gun, managed to grab onto it. The back doors suddenly swung open, drawing both men’s attentions. Four hands on the gun, Emily walking through the doors completely unawares, a shot ringing out. There was shouting and a scream that Naomi vaguely processed coming from Katie Fitch. The two men, suddenly comrades in getting the fuck away, bolted.
Naomi was moving before she even knew it herself, and she flew through the doors. Emily was flat on the floor, a crimson stain spreading across the thin material of her blouse. Fuck, Naomi thought. Emily would almost certainly die. Unless…
Later, Naomi would never be able to explain why she did what she did next.
In the moment, though, there was only time to act, so Naomi knelt on the floor and ripped Emily’s shirt open unceremoniously. There was the bullet hole, blood oozing out of it. Her right hand moved to cover the wound while her left reached up to cup the back of Emily’s head. “Emily. Emily, you have to look at me.” She whispered it harshly, willing the girl to listen.
“Oh my god! Emily!” Katie was screeching from behind her, and Naomi knew suddenly that everything was coming to an end. This was how it would go. She closed her eyes. Then she turned her head and opened them.
“Ring an ambulance, Katie. And have people stay clear!” Her voice was clear and strong. “Quickly! I’m not sure how badly she’s hurt.” The lie slipped out easily.
For some reason, another Naomi would never understand, Katie chose to listen to her. She ran, presumably for her mobile, and once again Naomi and Emily were alone. The ten seconds the exchange had taken were costly, and Emily was starting to lose colour in her face. “Please, Emily. Look at me.”
Emily’s eyes fluttered open briefly, but that was all it took for Naomi to get in. It felt like a hook fastened to her belly button had yanked her headfirst into Emily’s pain. Naomi wallowed in it for a moment before focusing her mind on the massive cell and organ damage. It was overwhelming, where to even start.
She stemmed the blood flow, dissolved the bullet, and started coaxing the tissues together with her mind. Every ounce of her energy went into healing Emily, and there was a rushing sound in her ears. Images flashed through her mind, mostly of Emily and Katie, but the one of Emily and herself hit her like lightning. Then, it was gone, and Emily’s skin was once again smooth and unbroken. Naomi’s limbs burnt, and she felt as though she’d run a half-marathon. Emily had still lost a lot of blood, though, and the evidence of it was abundant. Naomi looked upward, perhaps praying for divine intervention, and instead her eyes happened upon a container of ketchup.
Emily was starting to stir. Naomi grabbed the bottle and quickly dumped its contents over her midsection before leaning close to Emily’s face. “Listen,” she managed to say, desperation colouring her voice. “You heard the bullet and knocked into the shelves when you jumped out of the way. You fell, fainted, whatever, and the ketchup got all over you. Please don’t tell anyone what happened. Please don’t let Katie say I was back here.”
Emily’s dark eyes were locked on hers, clouded with confusion, but she nodded slightly. “Naomi,” she started to get out, but Naomi shook her head. It had all happened so quickly, so somehow they had managed to stay alone in the back. She had to escape now.
“Just, please.” And with that, Naomi dropped the ketchup container and stood quickly. She took one last glance at Emily before rushing to the emergency exit and out into the Bristol evening.
She was totally, utterly screwed.