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crossing_lostrpDaisy made her way toward George. It took a few minutes; being social was a fulltime job, and as everyone was drifting toward the cookfire as dinner time drew near, she had to greet and interact with quite a few people. Nonetheless she eventually reached her destination. George was oblivious, still basking in New Relationship Energy and wrapped up in Carlos.
Carlos noticed. He looked up just as Daisy said, "George, a word?"
"Later, Daisy," George said. She didn't even look up.
"Really, Georgia," Daisy said, a singsong note creeping into her voice. "A word."
George frowned at her. "Really, Daisy--later." Get lost George's eyes said.
Daisy smiled at Carlos. "Excuse us, Carlos. I really, really need to speak to Georgia," she said as she grabbed George's wrist. "Won't take a second." She pulled George to her feet.
Carlos looked ready to intervene but George rolled her eyes and sighed gustily. "Fine," she said petulantly. "I'll be back in a minute," she told Carlos. Daisy stalked off toward the waterline, George in tow.
"Jesus, Daisy! Ow! What the fuck is your problem?" Daisy ignored George's complaints until she reached the hide tide line. They were within sight of the camp but no one would be able to hear them over the surf. She turned to face George.
"You, George," she said. "You're my problem. What do you think you're doing?"
"Jeez, Daisy," George replied, massaging her wrist. "I'm talking to Carlos."
"I'm not talking about that," Daisy said. This was going to be a long conversation if George insisted on being deliberately obtuse. "What's this I hear about you telling people you're a Grim Reaper?"
George looked about to snap back, but Daisy was pleased to see her words take the wind out of George's sails. "Oh," George said quietly. "That."
"Yes--that! You can't do that, Georgia! What on earth possessed you to do it? And please, please tell me you haven't told everyone."
"Not...everyone," George admitted. "Just John. And...Ami. And Mara. And...Dr. Pierson and Quentin. Dr. Jackson, Blaise, Faith...I think that's all."
Daisy stared at George, horrified by the never-ending list. In a moment of uncomfortable clarity she suddenly realized how Rube must have felt on many occasions, facing with cleaning up the aftermath of her own colossal fuck-ups. How on earth had she wound up as the straw boss of their little two-person Reaper team?
"Shit, Georgia, that's--" Words failed her. "How could you?"
"What did you find in the Box of Many Things?" George asked, and Daisy blinked, confused by George's question. "A painting, wasn't it?" George continued.
"Yes," Daisy said. She tried to regain control of the conversation. "But that's not--"
"It was the painting that's supposed to be hanging in our living room, right?"
"Yes, but--"
George fixed her with a steely gaze. "You were the one who told me what you thought that box meant, remember? It meant we didn't just randomly wind up here. We were selected. They chose us. You remember telling me that?"
Daisy nodded, suddenly tired. She didn't want to be having this conversation any longer. Didn't want to think about the implications of the box. She'd successfully put it out of her mind for a couple of days.
"Do you remember what else you told me it meant?" George asked.
"Yes," Daisy said quietly. "They already know about us. All about us."
"Damn right," George said. "So the only people involved in this who don't know are the people on our side. And most of them, maybe all of them, have their own Deep, Dark Secrets. Well, I'm tired of it. There are too many fucking secrets on this goddamn island. If we're gonna get away from here, we have to stop spending all our time and energy keeping secrets from each other."
Daisy listened, marveling at George's fire. She was passionate and engaged. She'd always been passionate, but this focus was new. It suited her. George had grown up over the last two years. More than she had in many, many more years, Daisy thought, though she liked to think that she'd grown some in the last week.
"So I've told some people. I'll probably tell more. I haven't mentioned you and I won't, but--" George stopped talking when Daisy raised a hand.
"Okay, Georgia. You win. I'm not saying I think you're right, but...I'm not saying I think you're wrong either. I just don't know. Just...be sure, okay? This isn't something you can undo." Daisy paused, thinking, and then laughed.
"Well, that isn't necessarily true anymore, is it?" Tara's demonstrated ability to erase memories changed things, didn't it? And perhaps it also proved George's point. Knowing what Tara could do opened up possibilities they'd never have considered before.
George seemed to know what she was thinking. Daisy was relieved when George didn't jump on the point and rub her nose in it. She just smiled gently, apparently content to let Daisy work it out for herself. Daisy smiled back at George, shaking her head slowly.
"When did you get to be so smart?" she asked. She glanced back at camp, where Carlos was keeping a vigilant eye on them. "Go back to your lover," she said, stressing the last word and laughing delightedly when George blushed. "And remember that you still owe me some serious girl talk. I want details, girl. Now, shoo!"
Daisy watched George scamper away to rejoin Carlos, then headed back to her own place at John's side.
Carlos noticed. He looked up just as Daisy said, "George, a word?"
"Later, Daisy," George said. She didn't even look up.
"Really, Georgia," Daisy said, a singsong note creeping into her voice. "A word."
George frowned at her. "Really, Daisy--later." Get lost George's eyes said.
Daisy smiled at Carlos. "Excuse us, Carlos. I really, really need to speak to Georgia," she said as she grabbed George's wrist. "Won't take a second." She pulled George to her feet.
Carlos looked ready to intervene but George rolled her eyes and sighed gustily. "Fine," she said petulantly. "I'll be back in a minute," she told Carlos. Daisy stalked off toward the waterline, George in tow.
"Jesus, Daisy! Ow! What the fuck is your problem?" Daisy ignored George's complaints until she reached the hide tide line. They were within sight of the camp but no one would be able to hear them over the surf. She turned to face George.
"You, George," she said. "You're my problem. What do you think you're doing?"
"Jeez, Daisy," George replied, massaging her wrist. "I'm talking to Carlos."
"I'm not talking about that," Daisy said. This was going to be a long conversation if George insisted on being deliberately obtuse. "What's this I hear about you telling people you're a Grim Reaper?"
George looked about to snap back, but Daisy was pleased to see her words take the wind out of George's sails. "Oh," George said quietly. "That."
"Yes--that! You can't do that, Georgia! What on earth possessed you to do it? And please, please tell me you haven't told everyone."
"Not...everyone," George admitted. "Just John. And...Ami. And Mara. And...Dr. Pierson and Quentin. Dr. Jackson, Blaise, Faith...I think that's all."
Daisy stared at George, horrified by the never-ending list. In a moment of uncomfortable clarity she suddenly realized how Rube must have felt on many occasions, facing with cleaning up the aftermath of her own colossal fuck-ups. How on earth had she wound up as the straw boss of their little two-person Reaper team?
"Shit, Georgia, that's--" Words failed her. "How could you?"
"What did you find in the Box of Many Things?" George asked, and Daisy blinked, confused by George's question. "A painting, wasn't it?" George continued.
"Yes," Daisy said. She tried to regain control of the conversation. "But that's not--"
"It was the painting that's supposed to be hanging in our living room, right?"
"Yes, but--"
George fixed her with a steely gaze. "You were the one who told me what you thought that box meant, remember? It meant we didn't just randomly wind up here. We were selected. They chose us. You remember telling me that?"
Daisy nodded, suddenly tired. She didn't want to be having this conversation any longer. Didn't want to think about the implications of the box. She'd successfully put it out of her mind for a couple of days.
"Do you remember what else you told me it meant?" George asked.
"Yes," Daisy said quietly. "They already know about us. All about us."
"Damn right," George said. "So the only people involved in this who don't know are the people on our side. And most of them, maybe all of them, have their own Deep, Dark Secrets. Well, I'm tired of it. There are too many fucking secrets on this goddamn island. If we're gonna get away from here, we have to stop spending all our time and energy keeping secrets from each other."
Daisy listened, marveling at George's fire. She was passionate and engaged. She'd always been passionate, but this focus was new. It suited her. George had grown up over the last two years. More than she had in many, many more years, Daisy thought, though she liked to think that she'd grown some in the last week.
"So I've told some people. I'll probably tell more. I haven't mentioned you and I won't, but--" George stopped talking when Daisy raised a hand.
"Okay, Georgia. You win. I'm not saying I think you're right, but...I'm not saying I think you're wrong either. I just don't know. Just...be sure, okay? This isn't something you can undo." Daisy paused, thinking, and then laughed.
"Well, that isn't necessarily true anymore, is it?" Tara's demonstrated ability to erase memories changed things, didn't it? And perhaps it also proved George's point. Knowing what Tara could do opened up possibilities they'd never have considered before.
George seemed to know what she was thinking. Daisy was relieved when George didn't jump on the point and rub her nose in it. She just smiled gently, apparently content to let Daisy work it out for herself. Daisy smiled back at George, shaking her head slowly.
"When did you get to be so smart?" she asked. She glanced back at camp, where Carlos was keeping a vigilant eye on them. "Go back to your lover," she said, stressing the last word and laughing delightedly when George blushed. "And remember that you still owe me some serious girl talk. I want details, girl. Now, shoo!"
Daisy watched George scamper away to rejoin Carlos, then headed back to her own place at John's side.
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[George] Novel Questions (tag Clarice, open)
Date: 2006-04-28 06:57 am (UTC)George handled the badge for a moment, then handed it back to Clarice. It clearly meant a lot her, but George was distracted by her questions. This was interesting. Clarice was asking questions nobody she'd told had ever asked her.
Mostly they reacted with shock and dismay upon learning that she'd died. Clarice wasn't so much horrified to learn about George's fate as...fascinated by the possibilities. That was novel. But it suggested that she wasn't entirely clear on the concept.
"It's...not as glamorous as you might think. Hiding out as a human. You don't get paid, so you have to find a way to support yourself. Which may involve squatting in some dead guy's apartment, or getting a day job. Good luck on finding enough excuses to run off all the time to reap somebody. And some reapers, well, looting the bodies isn't just something that happens in D&D games."
George looked down at her shoes, idly drawing lines in the sand. "Serial killers," she said. "Yeah, I've done that. He didn't drag his victims home, though. But he killed himself in the end and I was there to reap him. I liked that one."
"But...most of the reaps are just ordinary people. Children, too. And..." her voice trailed off. George thought about Kirstie. It had been more than two years and she still thought about that little girl. "It's not like being an FBI agent. You can't save them. Any of them. You're not even supposed to try, no matter how much you want to. I thought it was horrible at first, and...it is, I guess. But that's how it is.
George looked up and met Clarice's eyes. "When I boarded our flight, I handed the stewardess my boarding pass and looked at her name badge. I saw she was on my list. I knew she was going to die and it never even crossed my mind to say anything. Not to her, not to anybody."
George looked away, out at the sea. "All those people--men, women, children. They'd all be dead in a few hours, and all I was thinking about was how I'd get the job done without attracting too much attention."
[Clarice] Novel Ideas (tag George, open)
Date: 2006-04-28 05:30 pm (UTC)"It may sound fucked up, but...you remind me of the folks on our coroner team. All they can do is take the measurements, make the reports and bag the bodies. It feels so fucking futile sometimes. By the time I caught Buffalo Bill, way too many women had already been killed and skinned. That wasn't any of our faults, but the autopsies were still painful."
She closed her eyes. "I couldn't do anything for the people on that plane either. I had to sit there and listen to kids screaming in the dark. I could only get over it afterward by constantly reminding myself that the badge didn't come with superpowers."
She thought for a moment, and then had what must have been her weirdest epiphany ever. "Have you thought about going into forensics or funeral arts? If you have to have a day job, I mean. Nobody questions someone with a coroner's badge for hanging around a corpse."
[George] Novel Ideas (tag Carlos, open)
Date: 2006-04-28 07:26 pm (UTC)"Rio?" Clarice asked, clearly lost by this apparent non sequitur.
"Yeah. Maybe," George said. She looked for Carlos and spotted him walking slowly in her direction, talking to Ami. Now they stopped and Carlos was shaking his head with a wry grin and throwing his hands wide in a gesture of helplessness. Ami smiled back and made a 'what can you do?' gesture in response.
"Oh," Clarice said. And then, "Ohhh! Good for you, George. But I'm still not clear on why Rio."
George ducked her head for a moment, then looked sidelong at Clarice. "Uh, well, Carlos says there're lots of mediums and spiritualists in Rio. Lots of belief in ancestor worship and ghosts and stuff.
"I'd fit in a lot better there. Being a medium is easy when you really can talk to the dead. It wouldn't be like conning people. And you can make your own hours."
[Clarice] Novel Ideas (tag George, open)
Date: 2006-04-28 08:07 pm (UTC)"Damn. Well, that's a good solution. Ah've...never been to Rio, so I couldn't say either way. But finding someplace where you can fit in well is definitely good. 'Specially with good company."
Her smile faded a fraction; Carlos was talking with Ami, and they were headed this way. /I'm not ready for that conversation, especially after getting weepy at practice./ She ducked her head slightly and busied her eyes and hands with making her (floppy) (too damned rough) quiver.
"Gonna get Carlos to teach you Portuguese, then?"
[George] Portugese? (tag Clarice, open)
Date: 2006-04-28 09:11 pm (UTC)George frowned. Her thinking hadn't gotten that far. Of course they spoke a different language in Brazil. "I guess so," George said. "I'm trying to think...I don't think I've reaped anyone who didn't speak English."
(Maybe I can talk to them anyway,) George thought. (That would be cool.)
On the other hand, aside from already being dead and therefore not killable, it's not like the gig came with any other nifty superpowers. So, probably not. George could imagine standing there speaking English slowly and loudly in hopes of communicating while the spirit of some dead guy gabbled at her Portugese. (Yeah, that sounds about right.)
"I guess I'll be learning Portugese," George said. "Good point."
[Clarice] Six months (tag George, open)
Date: 2006-04-28 09:56 pm (UTC)"Time?"
"Didn't know if you'd heard or not. We're here for at least six months, though I don't know the details. It's..." She started shaking.
"Fuck it. George, it's gonna be really hard, and I don't even know if I'm gonna survive it myself, let alone be able to help others do so. I could barely defend myself during that siege with what I have onhand, and I don't think I'll learn archery fast enough to make a difference." Her hands were shaking, and she had to stop trying to weave.
It was pretty clear her confidence had gone to shit some time during the last couple days.
/I feel so goddamned helpless. I'm actually afraid that I'm gonna die soon because I'm so powerless. And I'm wondering if anyone in the world beyond a tiny handful of people would even give a shit beyond being pissed I'm not there anymore to put my pathetic carcass between them and danger./
[George] Six months (tag Clarice, open)
Date: 2006-04-28 10:24 pm (UTC)She wanted to ask Clarice more about that, but Clarice was having issues of her own. Clarice started shaking and looked ready to cry any minute. George awkwardly patted her on the back, then moved a little closer and put an arm around her.
"You'll...be fine," George said, but it didn't sound convincing even to herself. She wanted to give Clarice comfort, but--damn. She had no idea how things would turn out, whether Clarice--or anyone--would survive. One thing being a Reaper had taught her was that death didn't play favorites. Good, bad, FBI agent or jungle-dwelling lunatic, it made no difference if your time was up.
"And...and least you did defend yourself," George, finally thinking of something positive to say. "I got my ass kicked. One of those 'hillbilly cannibals'--as Ash calls 'em--beat the hell out of me. She'd probably still be kicking my ass if Tommy hadn't driven her off with a stick!"
[Clarice] Six months (tag George, open)
Date: 2006-04-28 10:41 pm (UTC)"I mean...I'm trained law enforcement and I...I'm scared. Scared to death. Daniel has a spare sidearm and I practically begged him for it, but he said no. I don't...I can't protect you or anyone from taking a beating or getting killed. Not in this place."
[George] Six months (tag Clarice, open)
Date: 2006-04-29 02:08 am (UTC)"I mean, if you're not scared, either it's not scary or you're an idiot. You're not an idiot, so..."
"Wait a minute," George said, when she heard Clarice's complaint. "There's an extra pistol? And they won't give it to you? That is fucked up! What the hell's the matter with them?"
George stood up and looked around. "I'm gonna go tell him what an asshole he's being!"
[Clarice] *crack* *tinkle* (tag George, open)
Date: 2006-04-29 04:06 am (UTC)"Look...he told me we'd talk it over more later. Bluntly put, George, one of the reasons he gave me is one I can't dispute." She dropped her voice considerably. "I had a /nervous breakdown/ on the night of the damn siege. I think he was worried about me...doing...."
She trailed off briefly. She could feel the pressure of a hand on her shoulder. She looked down at the badge in her hand. "Uh...."
"Shit, George. They had to drug me that night, ok? Maybe he was worried I'd do myself in or something. I just can't stand the irony that if he'd trusted me with it /beforehand/, I would have been able to do a lot more that night and probably wouldn't have cracked. But he doesn't have a time machine he can hop into to change that, either."
The sudden turn of heart was so profound and odd as to be...rather noticeable. Even Clarice's expression had changed a little, as if she were listening to something.
"Daniel is the kind of guy who is absolutely reasonable as long as you are, and throws up a twenty foot thick stone wall in your face when you start gettin' scary on him. I learned that the hard way." She chuckled a little.
The hand again. Big and warm and callused.
Clarice swallowed. Blinked. Tried to speak. Considered. Tried again. Then sighed and just out and said,
"Uh, George? There isn't...a ghost...standing behind me, is there?"
(OOC: there most thoroughly and decidedly is not. ^.^)
[George] *crack* *tinkle* (tag Clarice, open)
Date: 2006-04-29 05:06 am (UTC)"No ghost," she said. "Are you sure? About Daniel, I mean? I'd be glad to jam my foot up his ass if you want."
Although as Clarice talked, George began to reconsider. Daniel been afraid that Clarice would kill herself? That would have sucked, and George could understand why he might have refused to give her a pistol if that were the case. You couldn't stop a determined suicide, but you didn't have to make it easy for them.
"Okay," George said. "If you're sure, I'll leave him intact. You might as well get some use out of him, right? But if you ever change your mind, let me know."
[Clarice] *crack* *tinkle* (tag George, open)
Date: 2006-04-29 07:21 am (UTC)She grinned. "And yeah, I'm sure. It's a comfort that you have my back, but he...ah don't know. You know...he's never seen me at my best, not once, but he's still with me, and he tries, even busy as hell as he is." Her voice became thoughtful and sad. "I'm tryin' very hard not to let that blow up in his face because, well, I'm just not handling this place well."
She sighed then, and said, "I asked about the ghost because of something I felt the night that happened. Tara was trying to help me, and ah swear, I heard my Daddy's voice. He's long dead.
"And yet every once in a while...ah start to feel like he's around somehow. It's the weirdest damn feeling in the world, but comforting too."
Fighting the ebil right shift one thread at a time!
Date: 2006-04-29 06:49 pm (UTC)