[For Sally]

[le_traiteur]

When I stop to think about it, I'm amazed at how easily I've gotten used to sleepin' in the same bed as somebody else. Even when Easy was in Bastogne, I had my own foxhole. Maybe it shouldn't surprise me, though. It was the situation that dictated my distance, not me. Gettin' close to people was too much of a risk, then

Comments

[remnantofjoseph]

There was something vaguely odd about the morning. Sally couldn't precisely put her finger on it. Was it the weather? Could it something to do with her current sleeping position? Or possibly, was it the fact that Sally felt someone with her, breathing on her and not even cuddling like any man should a woman.

Instantly, she sat up, trying to prod at the offender with fingers that were once renowned as the pointiest fingers around when she realised that she was missing something and she was most certainly in the gain of something else. "Oh dear god," she blurted out and it came out all wrong. It came out male and American and she was sleeping with a stranger. "Who are you!" she demanded sharply. "And why do I have a penis!"

[le_traiteur]

There's a lot of ways I could imagine Joe wakin' me up. Some good, some bad, but nothin' this strange. If he's gonna be pokin' me with anythin', it sure as hell isn't normally his fingers.

I'm still in that groggy place between sleep and awake, and I swat at the offendin' fingers in irritation. "Don' think I won't hit you," I mumble, and give him an elbow to the stomach, ignorin' whatever the hell he's babblin' about. It's still fuckin' dark out, and he's kept me up half the night, he can damned well let me sleep a little longer.

[remnantofjoseph]

"Do it and I'll scream," Sally warned, knowing that even while she was a booming American male (apparently), she could probably scream loud enough to bring someone down on them. "I don't have a leg," she nearly growled in a half-panic. "And I'm a man! And apparently gay! Not that you're not attractive, but you're not in my bed! You're in bed with another man who I am now in and not in the way I'd prefer to be!"

[le_traiteur]

It's becomin' clear that Joe's actually upset about somethin', the way he's rantin' on, and I force myself awake so that I can sit up, reassure him, tell him it was just a dream or whatever the fuck I need to do so he'll be quiet and lay back down.

"Might want to keep it down," I advise around a yawn, and peer blearily back at him. I know we agreed to let the guys know about us, but I don't feel like havin' to explain to Luz over breakfast why I was in Joe's bed.

Instinctively, I place a warm hand against his neck. "Shh, 's alright now. I got you."

[remnantofjoseph]

Sally might have wished in that moment for her own personal Q to give her laser-vision so she might burn a hole into this stranger's head, who kept touching her-him. Him-her. Whatever she was calling herself now that she had a penis attached to her and it still was only responding with mild arousal.

Bloody on-switch, where were you?

"Listen," she insisted desperately, "to me. I am Sally Harper. I am not normally like this!" She was near-close to hyperventilating at that point, deep drags of air in and out. "And you are touching me and being extremely endearing, but again, not in the right ways!"

[le_traiteur]

"Hey, hey," I say, reactin' on instinct to how worked up Joe's gettin', both hands framin' his face now so I can make sure he's lookin' right at me and just me. "It's okay. We'll work it out, I promise. Breathe."

Of course, it's about halfway through this routine that I realize the man I'm in love with might've just gone off the fuckin' deep end. Makes me a little sick, but I swallow hard against it, 'cause me gettin' upset ain't gonna help anybody right now.

[remnantofjoseph]

"I. don't. want. to. breathe," Sally spat out, staring right into those beautiful eyes of his and she didn't care! Nope, this was her definitely not caring, not at all. "I want my body back," she insisted. "Someone is probably in me right now eating things with high calorie counts and oh god...what if they put me in orange. I don't look good in orange," she insisted. "It pales me. Oh god, what if they have gay sex? What if someone has sex in my body with someone who's better looking than me and I don't even get to remember it!"

[le_traiteur]

I don't talk a lot, but it's not got anythin' to do with not havin' things I could say. Right now, though? I am officially speechless, and what makes it worse is that I know I gotta say somethin', and quick, but I can't even make sense of what Joe's tryin' to tell me. I'm thinkin' about that kid who tried to dig his foxhole with his bare hands, about the way his fingers looked when I cleaned him up, the nails ripped off, fingertips mangled. I can't get that image out of my head.

"Please stop," I say in a desperate, unsteady whisper, and swallow hard against the lump in my throat.

[remnantofjoseph]

Sally stopped and for a very long moment had to calm herself and realise that this was probably the boyfriend or husband or secret-torrid-lover or maybe the gardener that got too close, but whatever the case, he was having issues and so was she. She swivelled into a sit, glancing over her-his shoulder and looking at the rather kicked-puppy expression. "Oh, bollocks," Sally muttered to herself. "You know, I don't approve of being in this body, nor the whole wanting to kiss that look off your face impulse I'm experiencing," she informed him.

"Come on, we can go find my body and then you can ...well, I don't know, look like that at someone else before it tears me apart," she half-pleaded.

[le_traiteur]

Somethin' is very wrong, here, and I'm beginin' to think it ain't the sort of wrong I thought. My hands fall to my lap, and I pause a long moment, studyin' Joe.

"Hold up a minute," I say, still tryin' to calm the flurry of my heartbeat. "Start over and explain what you're talkin' about, and don't yell this time."

[remnantofjoseph]

Sally took a deep breath of her own, twisting up in the bed to look at the nameless pretty man. "My name is Sally Harper," she explained calmly (or as calm as she ever got). "I woke up in this man's body and I'm not here to be malicious or anything of the sort. I'm not in my body, this means, so that means someone else is and I don't really know who yet, so I'm in a bit! A bit of a panic, you see?"

[le_traiteur]

It's only then that I consider the Island. Proper noun, as in 'the strange entity that brought us here and likes to play tricks on us.' I've heard about the things it does, but I've just not been in this place long enough for it to be the first thought that comes to mind when my lover starts actin' like he's lost all sense.

I sigh, long and heavy, but a little relieved, 'cause at least Joe's not gone and lost his mind.

And then, I'm okay.

"It's gonna be fine," I assure him again. "Probably only last a few days, from what I hear." Just long enough for her to get used to not having a leg.

[remnantofjoseph]

"Oh, only a few days, marvellous, brilliant, wonderful," Sally snapped out sarcastically and she could go on. Oh, but she could go on and on, but she spared the poor man's ears. After all, he probably had been hoping for a morning quickie and now look what he had to deal with. "Any suggestions for the time-being? Oh, and, how exactly am I to be walking around, being that I'm missing a leg?"

For all of her panic, that part wasn't so bad. It was just something, something that was out there -- not that she'd intended it to be her -- but she could be strong (about some things).

[le_traiteur]

"You got two options," I explain, tryin' to keep this professional so that I don't have to think about what's actually happening. "Crutches, or the wooden leg. The leg seemed like it was easier for him once he got used to it, but it's tricky at first."

If Sally was here in Joe's body, did that mean Joe was in Sally's body? Jesus, that would be a mess when he woke up. "Where do you normally live, Sally?"

[remnantofjoseph]

Crutches. Oh dear lord, like that time I was thirteen and cracked my foot. It was a terrible thing, to get those big, bulky muscles, but then, I'm not myself and I won't do myself any harm and won't end up like a wrestler on steroids, but a fake leg does sound more enticing. "I share a room with a pretty young woman at the Compound." Too pretty, if you asked Sally. "Several floors down," was the dark addition to that, glancing to the lack of a leg.