(Untitled)

Oct 12, 2011 17:59

If the situation weren't so grave, Sarah might welcome the dawn of another dismal day with a bemused laugh. Last week, she privately began chemotherapy after putting it off for too long and for the first few days, it was tolerable. After that, it became a flood of familiar symptoms and if she hadn't known any better, she might have thought she were ( Read more... )

columbus ohio, caliban leandros, trixa iktomi, hank moody, sarah connor, james cook, sookie stackhouse

Leave a comment

dichotomos October 12 2011, 23:10:58 UTC
I'll admit, I'd been in denial about the cancer. With my background, the things I'd seen and done, it was difficult to admit something so fucking mundane could sweep in unnoticed and hurt someone I cared about. I'd ripped monsters apart with my bare hands, but I couldn't do anything about this, and at first it had been easier to pretend it wasn't happening.

There was no denying the way Sarah looked, though, no shrugging off that feeling of impending doom. Of all the fucking things that could possibly kill this woman, it wasn't going to be a monster or a machine; it was going to be her own treacherous body.

"Come on," I prompted, my mouth pressed into a grim line as I reached for her shoulder. "I'm taking you home."

Reply

knowthyexits October 12 2011, 23:24:22 UTC
It's a testament to how tired she is that she doesn't argue. She lifts her head and reaches for his forearm with her other hand to get a light clasp on him. "I need to eat something, it steadies my stomach," she explains, pushing herself to straightening posture as if the line of her body will help calm her down. "Just something quick, I'll bring it with me."

Reply

dichotomos October 17 2011, 00:23:40 UTC
"I'll get it for you," I replied, and slipped a strong arm behind her back to help keep her upright. "What do you want? Nothing complicated," I remembered to add, because I very much doubted that even like this, Sarah wanted anything to do with my culinary skills.

Reply

knowthyexits October 17 2011, 00:55:47 UTC
Sarah gives Cal a lazy smile that's somewhat tinged by her exhaustion, but mostly tempered by her emotions. "Sandwiches, Cal, that's all I need." She's a terrible cook, herself, and she's grown used to cold cuts and other deli meats. "Thank you," she adds, under her breath. She doesn't want to make a big deal of it, but feels that it needs to be said.

Reply

dichotomos October 27 2011, 23:36:33 UTC
To me, sandwich meant putting whatever was around and semi-edible between two pieces of bread, but as long as Sarah didn't want one of those fancy yuppie paninis or some shit, I could probably manage. I led her to the kitchen, helped her into a chair and set about rummaging through the refrigerator.

"What about… fuck, I don't even know what this is." I opened a Tupperware container, gave the contents a spectulative sniff, and then looked back to Sarah. "I think it's seafood."

Reply

knowthyexits October 27 2011, 23:48:46 UTC
Sarah winces slightly, but she doesn't want to be a nuisance. The best she can hope for right now is to eat, get home, and curl up in bed before she can somehow feel worse -- which is something she thought physically impossible without a stab or gun wound, but the world is proving her wrong. "No, you know, it's good," she promises as she reaches out to give his hand a soft squeeze. "Cal, anything is good."

Reply

dichotomos October 29 2011, 04:16:17 UTC
The wince was telling, and I abandoned whatever the fuck it was I'd found in the fridge. Not everyone could have a cast iron stomach like I did, and if her digestive system was feeling remotely the way she looked, it was probably better to play it safe. Even I was perceptive enough to know neither of us wanted her puking it back up.

"PB and J," I ejected, and pulled out a jar of preserves. "No fucking surprises."

Reply

knowthyexits October 29 2011, 16:31:03 UTC
"Not unless you're in the habit of surprising women with peanut butter and-or jelly," she replies, forcing a small smile. She runs her hand through her hair as she tries to jolt herself into a state of awareness, but when she pulls her hand away, she comes to see more strands of hair than she'd really like. "I might need help in finding a wig, soon," she says, hating the sound of her voice to admit that what she's been fearing is hitting her like a freight train, now.

Reply

dichotomos October 31 2011, 00:33:06 UTC
I'd been on the cusp of warning Sarah that any food made by me had the potential to surprise her, but the segue into her chemo stopped me in my tracks, open jar of peanut butter in one hand, butter knife in the other. I swallowed hard and resumed making the sandwich.

"Are you asking me or just sharing?" I asked, dubious about my ability to pull anything from the box that wasn't black and/or rude. If Sarah counted on me, she'd probably end up looking like Morticia Addams.

Reply

knowthyexits October 31 2011, 18:13:12 UTC
"Asking," she says, keeping her attention forward on the wall directly in front of her. She doesn't want to fidget and in order to stay resoundingly still, it's going to require her to summon up all her willpower. Cal has a tendency to make her feel like she's ready to jump out of her skin. "You're young, you know what flatters women -- at least, I assume in the vein that you know what you like when you see it. I can ask Sookie if it's a problem," she says, to give him an out.

Reply

dichotomos November 1 2011, 20:42:17 UTC
"I don't have a problem helping you out, I just-" I shrugged, and tossed the knife into the kitchen sink with a clatter. "Sookie might be better. I'm not very good at that stuff."

There was a whole other level to it, an undeniable intimacy, but I wasn't going to bring that up if I didn't have to. I wasn't lying, I was shit at knowing what was fashionable, but there were just too many implications to me choosing something I would like.

Reply

knowthyexits November 3 2011, 18:08:41 UTC
"I'll talk to Sookie," Sarah assures, watching him cautiously. After Cook's reaction to her disease, she feels as though she needs to be twice as cautious around Cal. She has no idea if their tentative truce on the matter will ever relapse and she's bound and determined not to let that happen. "Are you okay?" she asks, because it's as good a question as any.

Reply

dichotomos November 4 2011, 20:21:49 UTC
What a loaded question that was. To a point I could appreciate the sentiment-It was, on occasion, nice to know somebody gave a shit about me-but the truth was there were few times in my entire life when I'd generally been okay. It was a pretty foreign fucking concept.

"Yeah," I replied, because I was at least status quo. I cut the sandwich sloppily in half and handed it over. "You ready now?"

Reply

knowthyexits November 8 2011, 04:24:59 UTC
She can't help the stupid laugh that she gives at the sight of the sad little sandwich that stands as such a perfect metaphor for her simple and pathetic little life, right now. She reaches out to take it with both hands, supporting it cautiously and using it to toast to him. "Thank you," she says. "I think I might've just crawled back to bed pitifully if you hadn't found me. So, thank you for reminding me that I'm not a machine," she says, wryly.

Reply


Leave a comment

Up