[identity profile] starborn-scribe.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] crossing_lostrp
Who: Scott, Ami
Where: The Staff, Ami and Scott's room
When: Day 28
Invited: Ami, anyone who dares barge in
Status: Complete

The only good thing about Ami being unconscious was the time it gave Scott to reacquaint himself with his presumed possessions in their room. After lying Ami on the bed and triple-checking her vitals, he'd locked the door, then examined the video camera mounted to the ceiling. Although it didn't pan and no lights glowed, Scott dragged a chair beneath it to stand on. Closer inspection said that the camera was indeed off. He unplugged the output cable just to be sure.

Scott shook his head as he climbed down from the chair. (Not only am I empathic, telepathic, telekinetic, a scientist, and a healer? with a telepath in my head, but a paranoid one. Great.) Rather than contemplate that further he poured his nervous energy into searching the room.

A half hour later Scott sat on the edge of the bed with the fruits of his labor on the floor at his feet: his passport and wallet, a program of abstracts from the ninth annual International Society of Biochemists conference in Sydney, Australia, his laptop computer, Ami's journal, a photo that had fallen from the journal, his boarding pass for an Oceanic Airlines flight from Sydney to Los Angeles, a gorgeous portrait of him and Ami, a cloudy quartz pebble with a fleck of metal inside, and a foot-tall, silver abstract sculpture. One touch of the latter told him that it was made of the same material as the marble he'd found in his pocket. According to his Oregon driver's license he was 30 and not an organ donor. His passport was brand spankin' new; the only stamp was from Australian customs dated a week before the last day of the conference. And the passport itself had been issued two months before that.

Also strange (relatively speaking -- not even a blip on the "I've got a silver marble in my pocket that feels *right*" scale) was the absence of credit cards and photos in his wallet, and the wad of cash Scott had found in the lining of his carry-on bag. That bag and the laptop case appeared to be his only luggage. (I'm paranoid, travel light, and only carry cash. This keeps getting better and better.)

Scott scrubbed his hands over his face, then turned back to Ami. He rested one hand over hers and marveled again at their mental and physical link. How long had it existed? Although he hadn't searched Ami's things, Scott had flipped through her passport. She was far more traveled than he. Assuming that she couldn't teleport over long distances -- (Though that would be fucking amazing!) -- Ami hadn't been to the United States in years. The most recent stamp on her passport was from Sydney as well. Had they met in Sydney? Whatever the answer, how long had they known each other? The gray in their hair that wasn't in either of the passport photos suggested that a few years may have passed since Sydney. (I don't even know *when* or *where* here is!)

Scott withdrew his hand before any of his worry penetrated Ami's sleep. He turned his attention back to the array of clues at his feet. The photo resting on top of Ami's journal caught his eye again. Resisting the urge to skim through the diary, Scott picked up only the photograph. Despite different hairstyles and slightly younger faces, he'd immediately recognized Ami and the redheaded "bloke" from the cafeteria. Judging from how they and the four other twentysomethings in the picture had their arms around each others' shoulders or waists they were close friends. (Maybe I took this picture,) Scott mused.

After setting the photo down Scott willed himself to do what he'd been putting off: examining the silver marble. He was about to fish it out of his pocket when a better idea came to him. Frowning with concentration, Scott's mind easily found the marble. He imagined it floating up and out of his pocket. After a few false attempts it did.

Now that he was getting the hang of it, keeping the marble hovering a few feet in front of him was easy. Scott grinned at his own distorted reflection, and a little more from Ami's. (If we're together, I'm the luckiest guy on the planet.)

The marble dropped a few inches. As soon as Scott returned his attention to it, the ball returned to its previous position. Just for the hell of it he made it do a few loops and spirals, bringing it back to eye level when the novelty wore off. Scott positioned his hand beneath the marble to catch it when he stopped concentrating.

He didn't stop. Instead Scott focused more intently. He'd seen... no, *felt* that cool azure calm inside the marble. Letting instinct guide him, Scott reached mentally for the soothing energy. His mind touched it and the marble glowed and hummed.

Scott gasped from sheer surprise. The ball's light winked out. It dropped into his waiting hand. Scott stared at it askance for a long moment. (What. The fuck.) His eyes turned to the silvery sculpture. (I so don't want to know what that thing does.)

[Ami]

Date: 2007-02-25 04:37 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] fikgirl.livejournal.com
Ami was reluctant to pull her hand away from Scott's. She rather enjoyed that pleasant sensation she received from physical contact with him. It was still weird, certainly, but it wasn't unsettling or disturbing. Distracting, yes, but in a very pleasant way. If touching his hand felt that good, what would a hug feel like? A kiss?

(Down girl! Focus!) Ami quickly gave herself a mental kick. Embarrassment warred with the tingle of attraction and Ami retracted her hand from beneath Scott's. Her face flushed hot and she couldn't quite bring herself to look at him as she took the rolled up paper and unrolled it.

She gasped. The portrait was gorgeous. After staring for a few moments in complete awe of the talent that created the work, Ami's eyes automatically searched for a signature. There was one in the corner, but it was badly smudged and impossible to make out. She looked up at Scott with a coy smile, "We look good together."

There was a beat before Scott answered with a smile. "Yeah, we do." He never looked at the portrait.

He had a nice smile and kind eyes. His mouth was nice as well and sitting this close, he smelled good. Scott smelled right, just like having him in her head felt right. She couldn’t put the feeling into words or explain it, but there it was.

Ami licked her lips, swallowed reflexively and tried to control her breathing. Her heart rate was beyond her abilities to slow down, and she marveled that even with her headache that her body could give over to such reactions. She jerked her attention to the portrait, rolling it back up with trembling hands. "We were – we are – probably then, right? Together, I mean. All our stuff is here together and this portrait, so – we probably are, then."

It wasn't an unpleasant idea, not in the least little bit.

OOC: Evil Laughter

Date: 2007-02-25 04:46 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] fikgirl.livejournal.com
You can run but you can't hide.

*insert evil, maniacal laughter here*

Re: OOC: Evil Laughter

Date: 2007-02-25 05:07 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] sophiedb.livejournal.com
*giggle!snort*

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