[Ami] Late-Afternoon Awakening
Who: Ami
Where: Medical Facility: Kitchen #1
When: Day 20, late-afternoon, before The Crux of the Matter, after What do you do with a drunken sailor and The Subconscious Never Sleeps
Invited: Anyone present in Cafeteria #1
Status: Complete
Ami felt safe. That was the first sensation that she had any awareness of upon blinking her eyes open. She was safe, she was whole. Scott was with her, both mentally and physically. Ami curled in close to Scott, breathing in his scent, clean and soapy with that antiseptic hospital soap and shampoo clean, but underneath it all the spicy musk earthy smell with just an elusive hint of an intangible sweetness and cleanness that was so much Scott.
He murmured, his arm tightening around her, but he didn't stir.
Taking a few more long indulgent minutes to simply enjoy the presence of her husband, Ami listened to his slow, even breaths as he inhaled and exhaled. In the distant background a low murmur of voices carried over to her, along with the clatter and clang of dishes and cutlery. A cabinet door opened and closed, a bit too loudly, startling Ami into opening her eyes.
She stared at a featureless institutional cinderblock wall. Briefly panic swelled up again, and she had to remind herself that she was safe and sound now. Her mind slowly replayed the events that she last recalled, wrestling with the tide of panic again when she remembered Scott's wound and all the blood.
(Get it together, Hayden,) Ami chastised herself. Eyes closed, slowly unclenching her fists, she forced herself to take slow, deep breaths. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Slowly putting a lid on the panic and pushing it back into a corner. It was the here and the now that she had to deal with.
Calmer now, she focused on Scott. Ami's hand crept beneath the hem of his hospital scrubs, sliding over and down tenderly until she felt the unbroken skin and scar there. Releasing the breath she hadn't realized she was holding, she allowed herself the indulgence of a small smile. Just as he'd been whole and well in her/their dream, he was whole and well now.
The dream, and the words exchanged had been painful, but also cathartic. Ami truly felt whole again.
Propping up on one elbow, Ami studied her sleeping husband. He slept restfully, but the stress and trauma of the past few days could be seen in his handsome face. Her fingertips danced along the scruffy growth of beard, noting how he looked just a bit older, more mature particularly with the sprinkling of gray throughout the beard that matched that on his head.
With a smile, Ami leaned down and kissed him lightly on the forehead, rewarded by a wave of contentment that washed across their link and the slight turning up of the corners of his mouth into a smile. She smiled and then her eyes widened in surprise and embarrassment as her stomach growled.
Loudly.
The second growl brought to her full attention the fact that she was hungry and thirsty. Ami was still tired as well, but right now the biological imperatives of food and drink were taking precedence. As was a very strong need to visit the loo.
"Right then," Ami muttered, sitting up completely. Even that drained her and her full awareness of that achy-flu feeling crept up. She muttered something uncharitable about illness and timing and looked around, getting her bearings.
(We're sleeping in a kitchen.) Considering everything else about the island that statement hardly seemed odd.
A kitchen at least made finding food convenient.
The thought was easier than the action. It took a few moments more for her to work up the courage to leave Scott's side. (Relax, you're safe. And Scott is right there. It's fine.)
Ami forced herself to stand up and walk away - albeit it unsteadily - from Scott before she lost her nerve. She made it as far as the nearest table before sinking into a chair.
Evidently finding food was going to be a bit harder than she originally thought.
Where: Medical Facility: Kitchen #1
When: Day 20, late-afternoon, before The Crux of the Matter, after What do you do with a drunken sailor and The Subconscious Never Sleeps
Invited: Anyone present in Cafeteria #1
Status: Complete
Ami felt safe. That was the first sensation that she had any awareness of upon blinking her eyes open. She was safe, she was whole. Scott was with her, both mentally and physically. Ami curled in close to Scott, breathing in his scent, clean and soapy with that antiseptic hospital soap and shampoo clean, but underneath it all the spicy musk earthy smell with just an elusive hint of an intangible sweetness and cleanness that was so much Scott.
He murmured, his arm tightening around her, but he didn't stir.
Taking a few more long indulgent minutes to simply enjoy the presence of her husband, Ami listened to his slow, even breaths as he inhaled and exhaled. In the distant background a low murmur of voices carried over to her, along with the clatter and clang of dishes and cutlery. A cabinet door opened and closed, a bit too loudly, startling Ami into opening her eyes.
She stared at a featureless institutional cinderblock wall. Briefly panic swelled up again, and she had to remind herself that she was safe and sound now. Her mind slowly replayed the events that she last recalled, wrestling with the tide of panic again when she remembered Scott's wound and all the blood.
(Get it together, Hayden,) Ami chastised herself. Eyes closed, slowly unclenching her fists, she forced herself to take slow, deep breaths. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Slowly putting a lid on the panic and pushing it back into a corner. It was the here and the now that she had to deal with.
Calmer now, she focused on Scott. Ami's hand crept beneath the hem of his hospital scrubs, sliding over and down tenderly until she felt the unbroken skin and scar there. Releasing the breath she hadn't realized she was holding, she allowed herself the indulgence of a small smile. Just as he'd been whole and well in her/their dream, he was whole and well now.
The dream, and the words exchanged had been painful, but also cathartic. Ami truly felt whole again.
Propping up on one elbow, Ami studied her sleeping husband. He slept restfully, but the stress and trauma of the past few days could be seen in his handsome face. Her fingertips danced along the scruffy growth of beard, noting how he looked just a bit older, more mature particularly with the sprinkling of gray throughout the beard that matched that on his head.
With a smile, Ami leaned down and kissed him lightly on the forehead, rewarded by a wave of contentment that washed across their link and the slight turning up of the corners of his mouth into a smile. She smiled and then her eyes widened in surprise and embarrassment as her stomach growled.
Loudly.
The second growl brought to her full attention the fact that she was hungry and thirsty. Ami was still tired as well, but right now the biological imperatives of food and drink were taking precedence. As was a very strong need to visit the loo.
"Right then," Ami muttered, sitting up completely. Even that drained her and her full awareness of that achy-flu feeling crept up. She muttered something uncharitable about illness and timing and looked around, getting her bearings.
(We're sleeping in a kitchen.) Considering everything else about the island that statement hardly seemed odd.
A kitchen at least made finding food convenient.
The thought was easier than the action. It took a few moments more for her to work up the courage to leave Scott's side. (Relax, you're safe. And Scott is right there. It's fine.)
Ami forced herself to stand up and walk away - albeit it unsteadily - from Scott before she lost her nerve. She made it as far as the nearest table before sinking into a chair.
Evidently finding food was going to be a bit harder than she originally thought.