[Ami, open tag] The Beach
Dec. 26th, 2005 09:51 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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crossing_lostrpAmi jerked awake, a sharp yell echoing in her mind. Blood raced through her veins, she could feel her heart thudding deep inside, hear the echo of the dup-thump in her ears. Her awareness expanded slowly as her heart beat slowed and she released the breath she had taken in. It felt like there was sand beneath her, and there was the familiar comforting sound of waves splashing against the shore. The smells of salt and surf filled the air, the soft breeze blowing her hair across her face held the traces of moisture that she had come to recognize as being tropical.
But this was not the familiar, peaceful beach that she knew. Underneath it all was the smell of fuel, of burning equipment, of coppery tang that was unfamiliar and yet familiar at the very core of her soul.
She looked around and with frightening speed it all came back to her – the turbulence, the panic, the thwarted attempt at teleportation and the all encompassing blackness that followed the sharp blow to her head. There were other things, images and sounds and words and voices that all bled together and didn't make a whole lot of sense: Cora staring with wide open eyes and blood running down her face, a woman with a soft soothing southern American voice, a hand gently probing her scalp, a small glowing sphere, the feeling of being surrounded by a comforting, healing blue light. Ami gave her head a soft shake to clear it of the images she couldn't – and in some cases didn't want to – process.
/Megabyte? / She reached out tentatively, uncertain of whether she wanted to do so. She didn't know what she would do if he didn't answer or she couldn't sense him.
Turned out that was one thing she didn't have to worry about. /Good, you're awake. Stay put, I'll be there in a minute or so. /
Ami nodded, knowing he would be vaguely aware of the response. /We crashed? / It was a stupid question; she saw evidence all around her that the plane had crashed. There were bodies strewn across the beach, and a heavy feeling of sadness and desperation hung everywhere. There was some relief littered among the survivors, and some had a sense of urgency as they scurried about helping the injured.
/We survived, / Megabyte corrected her.
Looking at the devastation around her, Ami wasn't quite sure that this was surviving.
She reached out for the other's and jerked back reflexively into herself when she encountered nothing. Well, not so much nothing as a barrier that hadn't been there before. It was like a blank, slippery wall and her hands scrambled at it but never gained any purchase.
"Megabyte!" Ami hissed both aloud and telepathically. "The others –"
There was a pause before he answered, a pause in which Ami noticed a tall, dark haired man step into her line of view, /I know. You can't reach them either, huh? /
"Excuse me," the man knelt beside her in the sand, "Did you say something?"
Ami shook her head, grimaced at the slight headache that gave her and thought quickly. "No, I was just – I don't have my bearings yet."
The man nodded in comprehension. "I don't think that most of us do." His gaze turned briefly towards the beach and the scene of the air disaster before returning to her. She followed his gaze and felt a wave of despair that she had to beat back. The fact that Megabyte could be so cavalier about not being able to contact the others didn't make this any easier to bear.
/Don't go getting maudlin on me. We'll figure it out. We always do, right? / He punctuated the thought with a surge of comforting warmth and compassion.
It almost made her smile. She looked to the man kneeling beside her, "How many – how many of us made it?"
"Not nearly enough," was his answer. "Maybe 50, 60."
(Three hundred fifty two seats were on that flight. And it was fully booked.)
The thought was depressing.
All right, that was it. She had to do something to distract herself. She knew a little first aid, she had to going to remote villages and settlements in her line of work; Ami would be useful, helping those that she could.
Decision made, she pushed to her feet, staggering a little by her sudden shift from seated to rising. The man jumped up with her, catching her elbow to steady her. The mixed up kaleidoscope of imagery that came from him made her immediately slam her mental shields into place and jerk away from him.
Ami knew at once that it was the wrong reaction and she smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry, you startled me."
It was a very lame answer; she only hoped that he bought it.
"Your friend said that you have a concussion. You should take it easy." His answer gave no indication of how he felt about her knee jerk response.
"My friend? An American? A red head?" Ami pressed. She was going to kill Megabyte if he left her there on the beach to worry about him while he wandered off on some grand adventure!
"No, this was a brunette man; he was tall, though and he was American."
Ami frowned, "I don't know –" Scott. A name floated to the front of her consciousness. A name and a face and that feeling of comfortably floating in soft blue light. But it was more than that, and she groped for the reason just beyond, a vague memory surfaced. (But my mind has to be playing tricks on me.)
She backpedaled in the conversation, mulling over the memory of Scott, "Yes, well, I don't feel very concussed, and I do know a bit of first aid. I'm sure I can be of some help to a few out there."
[open tag to anyone who wants to jump in]
OOC Note: Edited to change Ami's course of thoughts near the end there.
But this was not the familiar, peaceful beach that she knew. Underneath it all was the smell of fuel, of burning equipment, of coppery tang that was unfamiliar and yet familiar at the very core of her soul.
She looked around and with frightening speed it all came back to her – the turbulence, the panic, the thwarted attempt at teleportation and the all encompassing blackness that followed the sharp blow to her head. There were other things, images and sounds and words and voices that all bled together and didn't make a whole lot of sense: Cora staring with wide open eyes and blood running down her face, a woman with a soft soothing southern American voice, a hand gently probing her scalp, a small glowing sphere, the feeling of being surrounded by a comforting, healing blue light. Ami gave her head a soft shake to clear it of the images she couldn't – and in some cases didn't want to – process.
/Megabyte? / She reached out tentatively, uncertain of whether she wanted to do so. She didn't know what she would do if he didn't answer or she couldn't sense him.
Turned out that was one thing she didn't have to worry about. /Good, you're awake. Stay put, I'll be there in a minute or so. /
Ami nodded, knowing he would be vaguely aware of the response. /We crashed? / It was a stupid question; she saw evidence all around her that the plane had crashed. There were bodies strewn across the beach, and a heavy feeling of sadness and desperation hung everywhere. There was some relief littered among the survivors, and some had a sense of urgency as they scurried about helping the injured.
/We survived, / Megabyte corrected her.
Looking at the devastation around her, Ami wasn't quite sure that this was surviving.
She reached out for the other's and jerked back reflexively into herself when she encountered nothing. Well, not so much nothing as a barrier that hadn't been there before. It was like a blank, slippery wall and her hands scrambled at it but never gained any purchase.
"Megabyte!" Ami hissed both aloud and telepathically. "The others –"
There was a pause before he answered, a pause in which Ami noticed a tall, dark haired man step into her line of view, /I know. You can't reach them either, huh? /
"Excuse me," the man knelt beside her in the sand, "Did you say something?"
Ami shook her head, grimaced at the slight headache that gave her and thought quickly. "No, I was just – I don't have my bearings yet."
The man nodded in comprehension. "I don't think that most of us do." His gaze turned briefly towards the beach and the scene of the air disaster before returning to her. She followed his gaze and felt a wave of despair that she had to beat back. The fact that Megabyte could be so cavalier about not being able to contact the others didn't make this any easier to bear.
/Don't go getting maudlin on me. We'll figure it out. We always do, right? / He punctuated the thought with a surge of comforting warmth and compassion.
It almost made her smile. She looked to the man kneeling beside her, "How many – how many of us made it?"
"Not nearly enough," was his answer. "Maybe 50, 60."
(Three hundred fifty two seats were on that flight. And it was fully booked.)
The thought was depressing.
All right, that was it. She had to do something to distract herself. She knew a little first aid, she had to going to remote villages and settlements in her line of work; Ami would be useful, helping those that she could.
Decision made, she pushed to her feet, staggering a little by her sudden shift from seated to rising. The man jumped up with her, catching her elbow to steady her. The mixed up kaleidoscope of imagery that came from him made her immediately slam her mental shields into place and jerk away from him.
Ami knew at once that it was the wrong reaction and she smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry, you startled me."
It was a very lame answer; she only hoped that he bought it.
"Your friend said that you have a concussion. You should take it easy." His answer gave no indication of how he felt about her knee jerk response.
"My friend? An American? A red head?" Ami pressed. She was going to kill Megabyte if he left her there on the beach to worry about him while he wandered off on some grand adventure!
"No, this was a brunette man; he was tall, though and he was American."
Ami frowned, "I don't know –" Scott. A name floated to the front of her consciousness. A name and a face and that feeling of comfortably floating in soft blue light. But it was more than that, and she groped for the reason just beyond, a vague memory surfaced. (But my mind has to be playing tricks on me.)
She backpedaled in the conversation, mulling over the memory of Scott, "Yes, well, I don't feel very concussed, and I do know a bit of first aid. I'm sure I can be of some help to a few out there."
[open tag to anyone who wants to jump in]
OOC Note: Edited to change Ami's course of thoughts near the end there.
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no subject
Date: 2005-12-27 02:56 am (UTC)A)Visual disturbances.
Well, the girl wouldn't stop staring into space, that's for certain. She hadn't even noticed his prescence until he'd spoken to her.
B) Confusion/disorientation
What else could explain all the odd phrases she'd uttered?
Crane gave his best "I'm here for you" smile. "I didn't mean to be so frank. My name's Jonathan Crane. I'm the director of Arkham Asylum in Gotham City. I know it doesn't exactly make me a medical doctor, but I do know a bit of first aid as well." Which was why he had stayed close to her when the other man wandered off. "You should probably rest."
This girl's reactions had been even more alarming than the other man. She'd acted as if his touch burned or something. He knew what being startled looked like. This probably rated a lot higher than your average 'startled' reaction.
[Ami]
Date: 2005-12-27 03:10 am (UTC)(One of these days I am going to learn to hold two conversations at once and stop looking like a bloody loon. And he's a psychiatrist to boot!)
The quicker she got rid of him, the quicker she could get on with what she needed to do. (Not that I really have any idea what that is right now, but anything is better than sitting here and bemoaning my ill luck.)
"Ami Jackson," she almost offered her hand, then remembering the cascading and violent images, changed her mind. She covered it, she hoped, by pushing a few strands of wind blown hair from her face. "Maybe you're right, Dr. Crane. I have to apologize, I'm a terrible patient. I just don't have the patience for it."
Ami winced at her unintentional and very bad pun, but continued on anyway, knowing that she was probably rambling. "I just hate feeling useless and helpless. I feel as though I should be doing something."
(Shut up, shut up, shut up, already. God, why couldn't I pass out now or something?)
[tag Crane, and anyone else who wants to jump in]
[Megabyte] Reunion
Date: 2005-12-27 04:14 am (UTC)Ami stood with her back to him, talking to a tall, bespectacled man. He walked closer, not wanting to shout out a greeting, but before he was close enough to call out to her, she turned and looked right at him.
A relieved smile broke out across her face, the wind carrying her greeting to his ears. "Megabyte!"
Then she broke into a run and Megabyte was left with no choice other than to meet her halfway before she stumbled down the beach, over attaché cases and dislodged suitcases and plane debris, and landed face first in the sand. He managed to reach her just as she did take a spill, landing in his arms instead of on the ground beneath them.
"Just for the record, Ami, it really bothers me that we have to almost get killed in a plane crash for you to be happy to see me."
The words were meant to be teasing, and to reassure her that even in the midst of this disaster, everything was still at the status quo. Instead of a smile though, her face fell and she closed her eyes as two solitary tears spilled down each of her cheeks.
Megabyte thumbed away one of her tears, "You know, I was just kidding right?"
"Cora. She's dead, Megabyte. Cora's dead. I couldn't save her."
Then she buried her face in his neck, letting the tears flow and Megabyte held her, feeling completely bereft. Comforting the girls when they cried had never been his forte, this was not his calling. He made them smile with jokes, he didn't wipe away tears.
He held his best friend while she cried, feeling lost, helpless and utterly useless.
[open tag, if anyone dares]
[Scott] Re: Reunion (open tag)
Date: 2005-12-27 01:21 pm (UTC)Scott lengthened his stride to keep up with the shorter man. "She has a concussion?" Damon demanded. "And she's sleeping? Doesn't anyone around her watch ER? Or television at all?" Scott kept quiet; Damon's questions were clearly rhetorical. He hoped that the man's concern was more than that of a scientist for his lab rat.
Moments later Ami, who stood talking with the prim-looking good samaritan, whirled around and joyfully shouted "Megabyte!" That alone prompted Scott to stop short. Ami and Damon rushed toward each other, the latter catching the former when she stumbled. The pair exchanged a few words, then Damon simply held Ami as she cried.
The affection between the two was obvious. Scott ruled out the scientist/lab rat hypothesis for the time of being. ("Megabyte," huh? No wonder he goes by "Damon.")
Realizing that he was staring at Damon's and Ami's emotional reunion, Scott wandered off to check on McKay.
[Megabyte] Reunion
Date: 2005-12-27 05:17 pm (UTC)It wasn't just that he was like a fish out of water when it came to comforting tears, there was also the nagging reminder in the back of his head that he'd promised to hunt down a doctor for someone. Someone who was currently alive, but probably wouldn't be if Megabyte delayed for too long.
"You're right," Ami pulled back, wiping ineptly at her eyes and cheeks with her fingertips and the backs of her hands. "I need to pull myself together. There are people who need to be helped and –"
"And you're one of them," Megabyte cut her off. "I heard tale that you have a concussion."
"I hit my head, but I'm fine. I'm alert, I'm functioning –"
"And you're a doctor, now?" Megabyte questioned. He grabbed her head, none too gently and tilted it down until he could get a good look at the gnash on her head. It was ugly and bloody, with matted hair, but if Ami's behavior and alertness were any indication, it probably looked far worse than it was.
Still there was no need to take chances and after a quick glance around, he slipped an arm around her waist and began steering her towards the nearest group of people which consisted of a brown haired woman with the Jodie Foster cuteness, the loud Canadian from the plane and . . . Scott.
Briefly, Megabyte considered that the world could not be filled with that many coincidences.
Ami stopped abruptly, "Megabyte, is that the same Scott that you were stalking?"
He nudged her moving again and hissed, "It was not stalking!"
Ami allowed herself to be led forward, /He's different./
/No really? You think so?/ He hated sounding childish and petty, and knew the sarcasm came out loud and clear in his mental voice, but he couldn't help it. /Thank you for that confirmation./
Ami either didn't hear, or simply ignored his response. He figured it was the latter. /I think he's telepathic./
Megabyte nearly tripped.
(Great, because that's just what we need. Crashed on an island, surrounded by the military and a psychic. It really can't get any better than this.)
[Megabyte] The beach
Date: 2005-12-27 09:04 pm (UTC)(And here I was taking time to try and weedle information out of him, and I think I told him my whole life story. Talk about stupid.)
/I said psychic, not psychotic,/ Ami told him. And then she proceeded to take the decision away from him. With a slight turn she waved to the prim-looking man she'd been talking to before Megabyte met up with her, indicating that he should come along; with a wink and a smile at Megabyte, she marched determinedly towards the group.
With a sigh, Megabyte hurried after her, arriving just in time to hear her greeting.
"Hallo, is there room for one more?"
Continued in a new thread
Date: 2005-12-27 09:07 pm (UTC)