[Daisy] Skipped Time: Day 9: Dinner Time (tag George, open)

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Daisy 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.

Comments

[George] Mysterious & Reassuring (tag Clarice, open)

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George followed Clarice's glance and saw Carlos talking to Ami as they sauntered in her direction. Short, dark hair, dark eyes, a brief flash of his gorgeous smile when he saw her watching him. George felt that silly, cheek-splitting smile fill her face again.

"That good, huh?"

George tore her attention away from Carlos and looked at Clarice. She was watching George with a knowing expression and a smile of her own. George felt both embarrassed to be so easily read and eager to share her excitement with someone else. "It...uhm...yeah. That good. Better!"

[Clarice] Mysterious & Reassuring (tag George, open)

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Clarice smiled warmly. "That's good, George. That's real good. It can help keep you from cracking in this hellhole. If I didn't have Daniel, I...ah'm not sure where I'd be right now."

/Bottom of the ocean maybe. I was ready to go./

She shook off the thought. "He treatin' you right, then?"

"Oh yeah." There was a very telling quality to George's smile.

"Good, that's good." Clarice seemed a little distracted as she worked on her quiver; her eyes flicked back to Ami, and she looked relieved when Ami started walking away. "Ah...think your man's waitin' on you," she nudged gently, with a faint smile.

[George] Mysterious & Reassuring (tag Clarice, Carlos, open)

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"Yeah, I guess he is." George took a step toward Carlos, then turned back to Clarice. "If...you want to talk, you know, about...things, let me know, okay?"

"Sure, George," Clarice said. She glanced up once and gave George a less than completely convincing smile, then her eyes went back to the weaving project. "Ah'll do that."

"Uhm...okay." She was a little uneasy about Clarice's mental state, but there wasn't really much she could do and Clarice seemed ready to be alone again. Or at least to stop talking about it.

George walked up to Carlos. "Hello, sailor. Looking for a good time?"

[Carlos] Eh? (tag George, open)

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"Hey baby. The cookfire was infested with stalkers, so Ami escorted me over." He glanced back at where Amanda was--huh, she'd finally taken off. Well, that was good. Maybe she'd grown a hobby or something.

He leaned over and kissed her, then glanced over her shoulder at the redhead. She was sitting alone, with Daniel on his way over, and she seemed a little...distracted. "Your friend okay?"

George shrugged and looked a little unhappy as they started walking in the general direction of the stream. "She's...not handling all this that well."

Carlos looked thoughtful. "New at weirdness?"

"Yeah, among other things."

"Hm." He looked back to see Daniel sitting down next to her. "Least she has friends who have her back. That should be a big help."

[George] Yeah, well... (tag Carlos, open)

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"You'd think," George said, looking back at Clarice and Daniel. When she glanced at Carlos, he was looking at her curiously.

George hesitated. It really wasn't her story to tell. "It's good that she has Daniel," she said, starting over. "But their relationship is...complicated. They have some major disagreements." She shrugged, unwilling to say any more.

Deciding that she didn't want to think about Clarice's issues any longer, George put her arms around Carlos' neck. "But enough about them," she said. "Let's talk about me. You want to kiss me, don't you?"

[Carlos] Yeah, well... (tag George, open)

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Carlos looked at them talking. "No, no, I mean, there's tension there, but the body language's still saying 'let's talk' and their voices aren't raised. I don't think they'll end up too bad off."

On the matter of kissing, there was only one proper response. "Oh yeah, resistance is pretty much futile at this point." And he put a hand on the small of her back and performed a fairly decent dipsmooch. "Ta-dum!

"So anyway...." no time like the present, "Just so you know, Ami and I have actually met before. Two years ago. We've been out of touch." He was playing with her hair again, finger-combing a few tangles out and toying with the strands as they walked. "We were actually just catching up."

"You didn't mention that." George sounded mildly surprised.

"No, because I've been too busy being wrapped up in you." He nuzzled her ear. "Mwah. Besides...it's a little awkward. Just a /little/, mind you.

"Ami and I have known each other for two years, but we've been out of touch. We dated for...literally...three days during Carnaval. It was embarrassing for about three seconds when I ran into her here, but then I went, hey, wait, we're both level-headed adults and we're both involved with other people. So, like I said...only a little awkward."

He gave her a one-armed hug and found them a shady spot at streamside to sit down.

[George] You...and Ami? (tag Carlos, open)

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George let Carlos steer them to a private spot near the stream while she absorbed what he'd told her. Carlos had dated Ami in Rio? (And I'll bet I know what he means by 'dated,') George thought.

There wasn't a lot of potential for embarrassment in running into someone you'd had dinner with. Or someone you'd played tour guide with. No, George had no doubt that "dated" was a genteel way of telling her they'd had a three-day shag-athon. Not that she could blame either of them. George had firsthand experience of just how goddamn sexy Carlos was, and Ami--well, she was gorgeous and exotic and charming.

(How do I feel about this?) George wondered. She examined her feelings cautiously, like someone probing for a bad tooth. Was she jealous? No. (I'm not Amanda.)

George glanced at Carlos, who sat with an arm around her but kept silent, letting her think. George put her arms around him and leaned into him, hiding a smile against his chest. (He's spending his nights in my bed.)

Well, technically, she was spending her nights in his bed, but the point remained. He hadn't taken up with Ami again. Not that he'd have had much chance even if he were interested, the way Ami looked at Scott. And unless she was going to believe he was lying to her, he wasn't interested.

She sat up again and met his eyes. "So, you...'dated', huh?"

[Carlos] Call it practice if you'd like.... (tag George, open)

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Carlos was delighted and relieved at George's response; really, there was no need for drama over this when they had greater concerns. And besides...

"We did what I'd like to do with you sometime when we get out of here--Carnaval. Huge amounts of fun, if you can avoid looking at the silicone-fests at the beach. Brazilians have this bikini obsession."

"You don't?"

Carlos thought. "I think you'd look great in a bikini; I mean, hey, I'm a guy. Less clothing on a woman is generally happy-making, especially when she's someone I'm deeply interested in screwing silly on a regular basis." He leaned over for another kiss, touching the insides of her lips with his tongue. "But it becomes a competition thing with this crowd. Who's the darkest tanned, whose outfit is the skimpiest, whose boobs are sculpted most expensively in order to look the best in them...I mean, yeah, eye candy, but the personality that usually goes with that kind of catty competition is...heh. Let's just say it's part of why I'm thoroughly Amanda-proofed."

[George] Stifling The Inner Voice (tag Carlos, open)

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George was glad that Carlos thought she'd look great in a bikini. She wasn't quite so sure. When she'd gone looking for swimwear in the stacks of luggage by the infirmary, George had been pleased to find a one-piece that fit her.

It was an unfortunate brilliant red that made her think of "Baywatch," but the only other possibilities were scraps of fabric more immodest than Shannon's sunbathing outfit, and...no. Just no. George preferred more coverage than that in public. In private, with Carlos, bare skin was fine--uniform of the day, in fact. It was the middle ground that she wasn't comfortable with.

She turned and threw a leg over Carlos to settle onto his lap. George knew Carlos had been relieved by her calm reaction to his previous relationship with Ami. So was she, for that matter. It would be far too easy to screw this up if she weren't careful. George wasn't sure what "this" was, but she knew she didn't want to screw it up.

It might turn out to be a short-lived affair, a few thrilling days (and nights) of passionate sex before they cooled off and drifted apart. George hoped not, but she wsa trying to avoid expectations of any kind, even inside her own head. That could fuck you up real quick--setting you up for disappointment when things didn't work out the way you'd planned.

Not that the zen approach was entirely successful. She'd already given some thought to Rio, and to learning Portugese for God's sake! Two whole days together--two days of frequent, mind-blowing sex, mind you--and she was considering changing her entire life around. That was nuts! Wasn't it? But it would be even more nuts to walk away from this.

George shook her head, earning a puzzled look from Carlos. (Enough thinking,) George told herself. She leaned forward and kissed Carlos. Just kissed him. No impromptu lap dance, no roaming hands, no expectations, no anticipation. Just a long, slow kiss because she liked kissing him, even when it wasn't leading to anything.

And because while she was enjoying the kiss, her interior voice went silent, perhaps because it was enjoying the kiss too. For the duration of the kiss, she was completely in the moment. Very zen.

[Carlos] Everyone's got fears (tag George, open)

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Carlos pulled George onto his lap gladly and slid his arms around her, feeling her squirm very pleasantly against him as she settled into place. But she looked...thoughtful. /Rut-roh. This is kind of to be expected after bringing up Ami and, well, the existence of potential complications--even if it's not that big a deal./

She shook her head and kissed him, and it was sweet and clinging and made the beach go away for a few seconds.

"MMn. Oh man. You know, for a guy in a desperate survival situation, I am having entirely too much fun. And you are to blame."

"Yeah?" her smile was a little tentative, and he cupped her face and started covering it with light kisses until she giggled.

"Yeah. Definitely. I mean, come on. I show up, I meet someone really neat who is fun to be around, can handle my risky-ass calling, is just, oo, so wonderfully fuckable--" he kissed her neck ticklishly, "And even manages to take the edge off my worries about dying in this place."

"I did?"

He laughed a little. "Hell yeah. I mean...for you this whole reaper business seems to be just a job. For me, though...well...learning for a /fact/ that there is an afterlife sort of takes a lot of the teeth out of my fear of death. Which is good--I mean, everybody faces it, now, later, whatever. And you, young lady, are to blame for that as well." He kissed the tip of her nose.

[George] Everyone's got fears (tag George, open)

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George giggled when he kissed her nose, then threw her arms around his neck and hugged him. "Just don't go getting yourself killed," she said. She kept her tone light, but it was a serious demand. Afterlife or no, unless you were tapped to become a reaper, you were gone forever.

Then she leaned back so she could look at him. "Wonderfully fuckable, huh? You say the sweetest things!"

She made a show of searching her memory. "As I recall, you're not so bad yourself. In fact, sitting here like this--" and she rocked her hips a little to emphasize the point, "--gives me...ideas. How about you take me somewhere private so I can refresh my memory?"

[Carlos] Everyone's got fears (tag George, open)

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Carlos smiled reassuringly. "Look, I'm always careful. Well...if someone else's life is on the line I'm probably not, actually, but I'll try to be more so, ok? I'm not eager to give up my body; I enjoy it too much." He leaned over and sucked warmth to the surface on the side of her neck to bring the point across. "It's just nice to know for certain that I don't vanish when it doesn't work anymore." /Though honestly, baby? If I do get killed, better watch it. I might just decide to haunt your ass. Boo./

He laughed a little. "I'm talking like my aunt Carmen now. She's the one that raised me. Umbandistas are pretty romantic people from what I've seen, and she's worse than most of them."

Broad grin as the conversation turned saucy. He leaned down and started murmuring in her ear. "Yes, I do think you're wonderfully fuckable. You're so much fun to get to relax and open up...and when you get going, my God.... I love it when you lose control and end up all over me. It's fucking amazing. Sometimes it gets me worried I'll end up hurting you, but you always seem to enjoy it . I love...the look of amazement you get when we try something new and you like it. And all those wonderful little sounds you make. It's completely addictive." He kissed her neck in the spot where a small mark had appeared, and nipped gently at the skin with his teeth.

At her suggestion and movements, his smile became sly and he felt a tightening in his groin. "No problem," he rasped softly, and rose, helping her up.

No point walking all the way back through camp; they headed instead to their mossy spot in that ring of trees. Carlos had taken to carrying a rolled-up mat with him to take advantage of their odd moments of privacy together; he laid it out and took off his boots, already starting to shudder a little with anticipation.

Undressing wasn't methodical; he started stripping off his shirt and her hands were there, sliding up over his belly and helping to push up the cloth. They both fumbled at her belt and his and for a while there was a lot of impatient tumbling and groping and kissing. Finally they got their shorts kicked off and he was kneeling on the mat and reaching for her.

He bit back a groan as he slid into her and pulled her down firmly against him. She wrapped her arms and legs around him and he cupped her hips with his hands.

He coaxed her to lean back a little, bracing her with his arms, and bent his head to kiss and nibble and suckle her breasts. "This more like it?" he asked in a strained whisper as he started to move. "Ohhh...oh, I would definitely say so...."

[George] My god, I'm full of endorphins!

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(Oh dear God,) George thought, (he's gonna kill me if he keeps this up...) And if she weren't already dead. But that was her last coherent thought for a long while. Carlos had driven her to ecstasy repeatedly the first time they made love--and he'd only gotten better with practice.

George thought he knew her body better than she did at this point, knew exactly when and where and how to touch her and kiss her and fondle her to keep her writhing in pleasure. Knew, too, how to tease her relentlessly, until he wore down her self-control and she lost whatever inhibitions she still held. George groaned and gasped and cried out without a thought for where she was or whether anyone could hear her.

The teasing had another effect as well. By the time she begged Carlos to let her come, the tension was unbearable. He finally relented and let George set the pace. She pushed him onto his back and rode him with single-minded intensity, stifling his own sounds of pleasure with fierce open-mouthed kisses.

Carlos had been testing her patience for a long while now, and the frantic pace she was enough at last to send her, not once but over and over again. Carlos reached his own climax while she was coming, and the feeling of that only added to her pleasure. It went on and on, until she thought it might never stop. That had never happened to her before. She'd never made noises like that before, either.

When it was over, she was laughing uncontrollably, gasping for breath. She was dizzy and giddy and her whole body was singing with the aftereffects. (I'm high,) she realized vaguely, (high on endorphins.) She laughed some more. It was funny! And she felt so goddamn good!

The minutes passed. George slowly calmed, coming down from that unprecedented high, relaxing into Carlos' arms. She felt utterly limp. Just turning her head to look at him seemed almost impossible. The heavy lidded look in his eyes suggested that he felt likewise.

"I hope that was adequate," he whispered.

George had thought she was done laughing, but now she began giggling. She knew the ritual answer to that question, the highest praise imaginable.

"Oh no," she said, "You weren't just adequate. You were more than adequate."

[Daniel] Room for One More? (tag Clarice, open)

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Daniel waited until George and Clarice were done talking, and George walked off with Carlos. They moved like lovers, and Daniel blinked in surprise. (Where the hell have I been that I missed that?)

Blaise's earlier teasing of George sunk in; the words had passed over Daniel's head because he'd been doing the dance of evasion with Quentin, but now they hit home. (I really have to start paying more attention, although romantic relationships aren't any of my business unless they start trouble.)

He made his way to Clarice, mindful that his reception might not be a welcome one. Although their earlier "disagreement" had not resulted in raised voices, he knew that Clarice was upset with him. Her reasons were sound; but he would stand by his as well. She was still borderline in dealing with things, and he thought that he'd only added to that by telling her about the Stargate Program and other things. She seemed like the sort who wanted to be a part of it, but didn't feel like she was worthy. He'd hoped sharing that would help her wrap her mind around the weirdness of the camp, but he wasn't sure that it had been a help at all.

She needed to do something useful, something that didn't involve her thinking she could save the whole world - because he knew personally that it just wasn't possible. No one had that ability; all right, there were races that did, but they didn't use that power because it was considered interference. (Damned if you do, damned if you don't,) Daniel realized.

He stopped a few feet from her, crouching down and catching her eyes. "So, is there room for one more, or should I keep walking?"

[Clarice] Room for One More? (tag Daniel, open)

[lambs-heroine.livejournal.com]

Clarice felt strange. Lightheaded, and a little like she was in a dream. She knew working in the sun for so long was part of it; she was remembering to drink a lot of water, but it was hot and she had gone from archery to basketweaving without a break. But really, it had more to do with...the conversation she had just had with George, and the idea of grim reapers, the verifiable existence of an afterlife, and her father. Whose presence she kept...sensing, more and more often.

/Am I on the verge of experiencing a miracle myself, or am I simply going to pieces under all this strain? How could I tell the difference? Anything could be real by this point--anything. And don't I deserve a miracle? One little piece of wonder of my own in the midst of all this shit? Something to help me get through when Daniel's too busy and my friends are tired of hearing it?/

The basket quiver was frustrating her; it was looking more and more like an empty sock made of raffia. /I should have put bamboo strips in it to stiffen it, but I barely know what I'm doing. I guess it's meant for something else and I should start over. Maybe make a frame first. I don't know./

She scowled and grabbed her backpack to stuff the unfinished project away until she could figure out what to do with it. She was reaching for a spare length of raffia to tie her arrows together with when Daniel walked up and got her attention.

"Hi," she said quietly, dropping her gaze. She reached over and took her bow off the log beside her to make room for him, setting it in her lap and laying a hand over it.

He looked a little concerned as he sat down. "That's quite a sunburn."

"Ah've been out practicin' a lot today." Her fingers slid over the curved wood in her lap possessively. /I told you I would arm myself,/ she thought with a quiet surge of defiance.

[Daniel] Room for One More? (tag Clarice, open)

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Daniel looked at the bow, then back up at Clarice. His words were light, but still concerned as he pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, "I didn't know that turning red was part of the learning process."

Uncapping his bottle of water, he pressed it into her hands. "How much water did you have today? Did you use sunscreen? I think there's some aloe up at the infirmary, we'll have to get some of it for you." Daniel knew that he was channeling some combination of Jack, Sam and Janet but couldn't help it. Clarice was supposed to be taking it easy; it was the only way she was going to recover, but as usual, she seemed to be pushing herself too hard.

He continued before she could say anything about his mother-henning of her. "I don't know if the rumor mill has ground out any gossip in your direction, but we picked up two more strays today. Faith and Mara. They were on a private plane that crashed here. They're interesting.

"They ran into the Doctor and his team, and he sent a note to vouch for them. Apparently Faith is an acquaintance of Tara's from Sunnydale, I think the name of the town was. Talk about your odd coincidences."

"So, how'd it go?" Daniel indicated the bow, "I've heard that they're tricky. They require a bit of arm strength. How did you do?"

[Clarice] Room for One More? (tag Daniel, open)

[lambs-heroine.livejournal.com]

Clarice's eyes flicked covetously to his sidearm before she could stop them. /Don't go there./ She looked away.

She took the water and sipped at it. "Thank you. Ah've had water regularly. We don't have enough sunscreen or I would have taken some. I'm gonna be out at the range twice a day every day for at least an hour; I'd blow through our stores as they are in a week by myself. Maybe ah should make a broad-brimmed hat or something." Though if that turned out as badly as her quiver...no, that wasn't physically possible. "Mostly I should just learn to tough it out.

"Aloe?" That would feel good. But it would run out too. She hesitated. /Screw it. I think I'll ask for some anyway./

Mention of Faith and one other person. "I ran into Faith earlier," she started. But then Daniel used the word "interesting" in a very telling way...and she closed her mouth with a snap.

A little smirk crossed her features. "More 'interesting' people. That's nice." Oh, and Faith was Tara's friend, so she'd have to marginally get along with her. Fine, whatever. Faith could bite her tongue; so could Clarice. She sighed. /There are so many 'interesting' people on this beach that I wonder if us boring ones are in the minority./

"It's not a coincidence. I don't think any of this is."

Small talk about the bow again. She huffed in exasperation. "Yes, these archaic pieces of crap are tricky, and yes, they require arm strength, which means my arms are going to hurt like hell for a while every morning because I've never done this before.

"To answer your question, I did terribly. I can barely hit every other mark, I'm quite frustrated, and I'm scared I won't have time to improve worth anything before the next attack."

"And that's why you're pushing yourself way too hard in practice?"

Her eyes brightened with tears; she gulped and fought them down. Her voice was quiet, but pointed. "Sweetheart, do you really think those bastards are gonna wait until I'm healed and ready to handle things before they come after us again? I have to improve my aim /now/. Anyway, I'll take sore arms and sunburn over having to fight off club-wielding lunatics with my eating knife again."

[Daniel] Room for One More? (tag Clarice, open)

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Daniel watched Clarice sip at the water, and caught her hopeful expression at the mention of the word, 'aloe.' "Evidently Sun and Molly found aloe plants on the island, so apparently they've been transplanted here and are managing to thrive. There's no possibility of running out of aloe."

He wondered what Clarice had thought when he said that Faith and Mara were interesting and decided to clarify. "Well then if you met Faith, you should know what I mean by interesting. She has an edge to her, reminds me a bit of a younger Ripley, but I can't see any reason for a woman as young as Faith to have that sort of edge.

"As for Mara," Daniel paused, searching for the most polite way to explain her. "I don't think she sees the world in quite the same way that we do. She's been damaged, long before she crashed here."

"Clarice, I think that if they attack, they attack and we will do our best to fight them off like we did before," Daniel told her honestly. "However, I don't think that they plan on attacking us again, not like that. We beat them back, and I think that was enough for them. They were armed with clubs, they weren't looking for resistance, and they got a surprise."

Daniel rubbed her back between her shoulder blades, "Your aim isn't going to improve if you wear your arms out and get even more frustrated. You have to pace yourself, not wear yourself out.

"And according to what I know, barely hitting every other mark is damn good for the first day."

[Clarice] Room for One More? (tag Daniel, open)

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The mention of Mara being troubled made her frown thoughtfully. "She won't be the only person either in recovery or dealin' with emotional or mental issues on the island. We can probably figure out ways to see she gets most of what she needs. I mean, she's not like Shannon on crack or something, right?"

Daniel's compliment on her accuracy made her fidget. "Well...yeah, but...."

**/Listen to him, baby. He loves you, and you know he's generally on the mark./**

Clarice stopped and blinked.

"Clarice?" Daniel was looking at her, a little concerned.

/(Okay, that was just...weird. I could have sworn I heard...)/

She sighed. "Sorry. You're right. I just...look, partly it's an ego thing. I'm used to a much higher accuracy rate."

**/You'll get there./**

"You'll get there."

Blink. /OK, now I'm hearing echoes or something./

"Ah think I may have had too much sun," she admitted. "I just want so badly to feel confident at something again. Thought my aim would translate. Of course, it isn't that simple." She had left her bracers on, and peeled them off, rubbing her arms underneath them. "I would definitely like some of that aloe, ah think." She looked down. "Damn, my legs're a bit toasty too. My fault for wearin' shorts for the first time in a coupla years."

That made her smile just a bit. "Could use some help takin' care of all this tender skin."

Then she ducked her head a little shily. "Look, I'll scale back to one practice tomorrow and make m'self a hat and such if it bothers you that much. Some of the girls want me to teach a commonsense safety class for women, like ah'd been talkin' about. I won't be good for that until tomorrow, I think, but...with one less practice it won't be pushing."

She looked at him, then smiled a little again. "Haven't given you a proper hello." She leaned over and kissed him, which got a yawp of amusement from /someone/ over by the infirmary.

[Daniel] Room for One More? (tag Clarice, open)

[fikgirl.livejournal.com]

Daniel kissed her back quite thoroughly, running his fingertips lightly along her arms, mindful of her sunburn. When they came up for air, he told her, “We’ll get you set up with some of that aloe sooner rather than later. And I will really appreciate it if you do take it easy, although a common-sense self-defense class sounds like a good idea. Just don’t let Ripley – or I’m afraid Faith – give any pointers. I don’t think they’re quite up on *defense*.” The last was said with a chuckle as he tried to imagine Ripley giving self-defense instructions to a beach of non-fighting females.

Clarice must have been trying to picture the same thing because she did give a small giggle, which was very much the response he was going for.

He rubbed her arms gently where she’d taken off the bracers. “You should have seen me the first time with a gun. I only started carrying one because Jack insisted. I used to go on – out of town - missions without one. I got injured and kidnapped enough that Jack thought putting a gun in my hand and teaching me to use it would go a long way to solving that problem. He actually told me that I wasn’t trying hard enough, that I wanted to get myself killed and stormed out of the firing range once.” Daniel smiled slightly at the memory.

“I got better,” Daniel added with a wry grin. Then he sobered, “But all things being equal, I don’t feel any safer with one than without one. I still get shot at, wounded or nearly killed just as often. The only saving grace of carrying one is that I know that if it comes down to it, I can watch my teammates’ backs instead of them always watching mine.”

He paused, actually hearing his last words. “That’s what this is about, isn’t it? It’s not about you, it’s about all of them.” By them he meant the other survivors on the beach. Daniel shook his head slightly, “You can’t defend them all, even with a gun if the Others come back. I fired off one shot that night, Clarice. One. Because beyond that first shot there was too much danger of hitting one of our own people. I don’t think Blaise fired off any, for the same reason. Our guns, even the P90s were useless in the attack that night.

“Unless we were planning on shooting them in the backs, having the gun was about as productive as not having one.”

Daniel stood up, unbuckled the gun holster and handed it to Clarice, gun and all. “I don’t think it’s a solution to what you’re feeling, Clarice, but maybe I’m wrong. I’m an archaeologist, and I wasn’t trained to carry one of these. Maybe it’s different for you. But I still think the archery is a good idea – it’s not like we have an unlimited supply of ammo.”

[Clarice] The Ugliest Talent (tag Daniel, open)

[lambs-heroine.livejournal.com]

"Ripley or Faith would probably approach things the same way Blaise does--from a practical combat-training point of view. But we've a lot of women who don't even know how to
channel their adrenaline responses so they don't freeze. Most of 'em don't even know to carry a safety whistle or a handy light source." /Learned helplessness./ "Ah figure I can handle the personal safety stuff while Blaise teaches folks to fight." She sounded marginally more confident now, something that had been happening since she started talking about the class again.

"Your friend Jack sounds like my Daddy sometimes." She smiled a little. "Course, where I was growin' up, firearms were necessary for a lot more'n personal defense. Reason I'd eaten bear before was that Daddy bagged us one on the way home from work a few times." She didn't like talking about being that poor, but...hell, she wasn't hiding anything from Daniel either. "He was a real God-Guts-and-Guns guy. Even had a temper like Jack's."

**/Aw, c'mon, baby, ah was never that bad./**

Pause. Blink. /No. No way./

She shook it off as Daniel described not feeling any safer armed. /I, meanwhile, feel naked unarmed./

And then he got it. That it wasn't ultimately about her pride or safety; that it was about not having to watch helplessly while the others were hurt or killed or dragged away. She nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. "I don't even like guns that much, b'lieve it or not. But I'm more confident with one in hand by a great deal because...well...ah /do/ have a gift."

She fished into her bag. The folded-up slip of range target she came up with had an extraordinarily tight little six-shot smiley face in it. "It's kind of ironic. I've killed two people in my life and it makes me sick every time, but I'm one of the best shots out there."

When he mentioned how useless the P90s had been, she nodded thoughtfully. "You can't defend a beach fulla people very easily with four firearms, it's true. Especially in the dark. A gun isn't a magic wand no matter how firmly Jack or my daddy believes in 'em. But if the Others weren't scared of 'em, they wouldn't have tried to steal 'em. And more to the point...OK, so they don't help much in protecting people from kidnapping. But they'll be a damnsight handy in getting them back, if it comes to that.

"Four guns ain't much. But that, plus the people who want to learn archery or take a class from Blaise, plus the folks with other combat skills, plus any kinda fortifications and early-warning things y'all can put together...."

Daniel laughed a little. "Ok, ok, I get what you're saying. Not the be-all and end-all, but an important piece of the puzzle."

"Yeah, basically...."

She trailed off, eyes flashing suddenly. "Jesus, that's so simple, why didn't I think of it before?"
"What is it?"

"Doc can carve metal with that doohickey of his. Stick a warning gong by the watchfire made from fuselage metal, and another somewhere central in the caves. Heck, ah'll donate my plate. Just knock a coupla holes in it and stick it on a bamboo frame."

She didn't mention to Daniel that she had no qualms about shooting one of the Others in the back of the head--if the bastard was carrying one of the castaways at the time.

When Daniel unstrapped his pistol and handed it to her, she blinked slowly down at it. /I guess he's seeing enough signs of recovery now. Maybe because I actually agreed to scale back tomorrow. Or maybe he just realizes my motives fully now./

"Thank you," she said quietly. She weighed it in her hand. /Not a magic wand, but I can damn well work some magic with it if I have to./ Surprisingly enough, she strapped the gun belt on and then pulled her long tanktop down /over/ it. "It ain't a Superman cape." /But it means you finally trust me fully, especially not to wig out on you, and that's just as important./ "But four armed people is better than three. Ah'm gonna be practicing with the bow as usual, of course, and I'm getting fairly good at making arrows. I don't even think I'll let people in general know I'm carrying yet." She looked very thoughtful.

Re: [Clarice] The Ugliest Talent (tag Daniel, open)

[lambs-heroine.livejournal.com]

(OOC note: In Hannibal, Clarice ends up getting into the Guinness Book of World Records for the female law enforcement officer who has killed the most people in the line of duty. This was due to the results of ONE very bloody mass firefight where all she had was her service pistol against automatic-rifle-wielding gangsters. O.o Needless to say, she celebrated her new record by drinking herself into a stupor and crying a lot.)

[Daniel] The Ugliest Talent (tag Clarice, open)

[fikgirl.livejournal.com]

"He calls it a sonic screwdriver," Daniel said in reference to the Doctor's 'doohickey.' "Although I'm rather partial to 'doohickey.' I'm sure he won't be, but I will have to use that term sometime." (What else are silly apes for if not to annoy 'higher and more advanced' life forms? Unlike the Goa'uld, at least the Doctor will understand sarcasm and parody.)

"Blaise wanted to give some instruction on using the P90," Daniel continued. "You're welcome to take a lesson or two." He saw Clarice's frown and smiled, "Believe it or not, I've seen cadets smaller than you handle a P90. It just takes a little bit of finesse."

He ran his hand up her back and massaged the back of her neck, "I'm taking first watch tonight, if you're up to it, you can sit watch with me. I was going to take an early morning watch, but I was worried that I might be a bit groggy depending on how much sleep I actually get tonight."

His eyes twinkled mischievously.

[Clarice] Itty bitty redhead with assault rifle.... (tag Daniel, open)

[lambs-heroine.livejournal.com]

"I like 'frammistat'. It was one of the words the Thing used to use to describe all of Reed Richards', uh...devices."

"You read the Fantastic Four?" He blinked at her.

She fidgeted a little. "Uh...well...yeah."

She nodded at his urging to use the P90. Honestly, she was not a huge fan of rifles, largely because she had just squeaked in over the minimum height requirement and so her arms were just a tad short for comfort with the job. But he certainly had a point. "Ah'll attend."

She leaned back into his touch, winceing a little where her skin was tender but feeling a sort of perverse pleasure in bearing it. "Ah can take first watch just fine. B'sides, I think Carlos took over one of the early mornin' shifts, so they won't be as stretched."

At the mention of actual sleep, she actually cracked a little grin. "Sweetheart, it's been a rough day. You're lucky ah don't drag you off duty right now."

His eyebrows rose. "...oh really?"

She bit her lip with a mischievous look and nodded. "Been thinkin' about it most of the afternoon."

"I...thought we were arguing today."

She just chuckled. "Yeah, we were arguing...about /one thing/. Everything else is goin' great between us." Which was true enough.

She did not mention there being a bathing Kenzaki about to throw gasoline on the fire, of course.