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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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[Clarice] Room for One More? (tag Daniel, open)
Date: 2006-05-02 03:33 am (UTC)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)
Date: 2006-05-02 05:25 pm (UTC)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)
Date: 2006-05-03 07:41 am (UTC)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)
Date: 2006-05-03 07:44 am (UTC)[Daniel] The Ugliest Talent (tag Clarice, open)
Date: 2006-05-04 01:12 am (UTC)"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)
Date: 2006-05-04 05:05 am (UTC)"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.