As the Waves Keep Rolling In:[11/23-11/27]
Who: Sarah Connor & ______
Where: Infirmary
When: Since 11/23 to Sunday
Warnings: (if necessary) IDEK, 11/23: Blood and character death/revival, 11/24-//27 Connor mouth? Gonna just...post the days here with a snippet for each day, k? backdatin' is coo. Holiday ate my soul.
[Apparently, this is the song iTunes wanted me to listen to. ]
Comments 68
Dead on arrival, stored and waiting, waiting for the lights to flicker back on.
It began with darkness, sound, and the flickering wash of hazy images that might have been dreams or memory. Moving wasn't an option, though she spun closer toward actually being awake. She watched Kyle's face drift by her, still and gone as they zipped him up in a body bag, she saw John's panic as they took him away, the bored faces of orderlies who did nothing to help and all they could to harm, she saw the world race by in ribbons of red and white on dark highways.
She drew a breath and it was sharply sweet, the rush of pain, too.
Alive.
Alive, but unable to move, her eyes open but her mouth unable to really do much more than twitch before that finally gave way to a sandpaper throat and frustrated attempts to move. It took long hours, hours that she spent half in and half out of consciousness before she was suddenly wide awake.
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Sarah was lucid on and off, but her mood sat somewhere between shocked and sullen...and semi-sleepy. She half remembered conversations she might have been having. Maybe.
And she might have fallen asleep on people more than once. She was pretty sure she had shit to be thankful for, and gave her thanks quietly in a soft murmure under her breath when she had the strength.
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There's a point at which Sarah comes out of her unconsciousness, but not yet all the way. It's an odd and quiet and dim hour, and she isn't alone. Gaius-- presumably Gaius, because that's certainly his voice-- sits just out of sight, his elbows on his knees and head rested on folded hands. It's almost like prayer, but isn't - he is bent out of weariness, not godfearing awe.
"...doesn't make sense, do you ever listen to yourself?"
A pause, a gap like a one-sided phone conversation.
"Unless you're under the employ of the Admiral, I severely doubt that."
And again. He lifts his head to glance at the empty air. His voice is creaky with being quiet, dry in its sarcasm.
"But she's real, so she's got that going for her."
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Sarah couldn't believe how fucking tired getting his name out made her, but she did her best to ignore it. Because she couldn't quite make up her mind if she was hearing shit or what. Moving too energy reserves that were already majorly depleted, but she managed the attempt to find where his voice was coming from.
Spots danced before her eyes, but she blinked past them with a long sigh.
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There's a scrape of his chair, shifting closer where he's sitting.
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She'd done well, despite her shitty diplomacy fuck up with the vampire.
And he was still an asshole.
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He moved easily between the beds though until he found Sarah near a window. "You must be feeling a bit better," he said by way of greeting, "if you're on your feet." Then he gave her bow, because that was what he did. He held a book clasped against his chest.
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"Yeah," Sarah said with a slightly amused expression. "Better. Exhausted, mostly, but determined to get back on my feet. You doing okay?" She knew she was pushing herself, but fuck it, it wasn't like the window was going to collapse under her weight.
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"Well enough, I suppose. When one has an inmate, one is seldom bored." He hoped that didn't sound evasive. "Are you walking about a bit just now? I brought a book for you. I can leave it for later, if you like."
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She spent most of the day flicking through posts made to the network, and then found her own.
It looked like something out of a horror film.
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Annoyed she stared at the monitor and frowned.
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He'd noticed that he hadn't heard from her lately, of course, but he'd just sort of figured that she was busy, or something was going on with Gaius, or she had Thanksgiving plans, or something. And he'd been wrapped up in the pie-making thing, and the Claire thing, and the ongoing distraction that was Mr. White, so it had been really easy to write it off.
Until he got to her door for Sobriety Sunday and realized that the little box he'd put outside on Thursday night had never been picked up.
Eventually, he worked out where she'd gone, with no fucking help from the creepy swarming gremlin things that were suddenly flying around. But by the time Sarah woke up, Jesse had managed to get to her beside and promptly dozed off too, sprawled out on a chair, a large backpack by his feet. He stirred when she did, coming out of his cat-nap with a sleepy "Hmm?" and a quick rub at his eyes.
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"Pretty sure today's Sunday." Her expression fell as she shifted, doing her best to must enough energy to keep her eyes on his face. "Promised you Chinese." A shape darted past her nose and she grumbled. Whatever they were giving her, she was totally sure it was too much because she was definitely seeing shit.
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...small, he said to himself. She looked small, like Jenny had, and for Sarah, that was really messed up. He frowned. "Don't worry about it. We'll kung pao it up next week. Look -- I brought the party over this time."
He hefted up the backpack, right in time for it to smack a buzzing fairy. The fairy spit out a word that had to be a fairy swear, and Jesse scowled at the thing. "Yo, do you mind, assholes? We're trying to talk, here."
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