crossing_lostrp | [Ami] Day 11: Tending Open Wounds (tag Mara,open)

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[Ami] Day 11: Tending Open Wounds (tag Mara,open)

OOC: Bumping from [Lucy] Day 11: Making Her Escape due to maximum comment/replies reached.

Edited 16 May 06 to add: Maximum Posting Limit of 75 has been suspended for this thread.

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Ami ducked into Mara's shelter as Tommy and Jon made their way to the cookfire area. As they departed, her stomach grumbled a bit, reminding her that she hadn't eaten yet this morning. Tommy and Jon were too far away without shouting for them, and shouting might disturb Mara and she wasn't willing to leave the young woman alone. She figured she'd suffer through for a while longer; it wasn't like she would die of starvation in a few hours time.

Kneeling by Mara's bed, she hesitantly reached out and placed her hand lightly on the woman's forehead. Dropping her shields just a bit, she focused solely on Mara, wincing again at the rents and tears in the woman's shields. Beneath that, she was disturbed, and mentally and psychically exhausted. Ami wasn't connected to Mara the way she was to Megabyte, Mara not being a Tomorrow Person, but she thought she would try to reinforce the woman's shielding a bit anyway. The worse that would happen was nothing and the best was that Mara might sleep a bit easier, even if Ami couldn't take away the horrors she'd already experienced.

It took a few minutes of concentration, and Ami felt a wee bit more tired herself when it was done, but she'd managed to connect with Mara on the very surface and reinforce her shielding – filling in some of the gaps. It wouldn't hold for long, a day at the most, but hopefully it would give the other woman some comfort.

Done with what she could do, Ami leaned against Mara's bed and waited for Tommy and Jon to return.

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Sayid had seen Faith go running off into the forest, and knew at once that for all her seeming self-sufficiency, she should not go alone. Not now. Lucy was dead in a horrific way, one of Faith's friends had collapsed, the beach was in emotional tatters, and his bet was that she felt at least as helpless over the whole situation as he did.

He didn't normally get directly involved in the various emotional situations that erupted over the beach. It was not lack of concern; in fact, he was often deeply concerned. But he did not know these people, and had half a dozen reasons to keep quiet about himself and keep people at arms' length. So he stood stoically on the periphery, offering pointed suggestions here and there and occasionally mediating things.

Now, however, that was not what was needed. So when he saw her run for the jungle, he set down the impromptu paddle he was carving and hurried after her.

He was amazed by how fast she darted out of his sight once she hit the treeline. Shaking his head and saying something mildly uncharitable about stubborn women in Arabic under his breath, he picked up his pace. Her headlong rush was almost arrow straight, fortunately, and marked by broken branches and disturbed brush where she'd bulled her way through. /There is far, far more going on here than fallout from a suicide,/ he thought as he paused to pick up a snapped-off branch as thick as his arm.

He hurried on. By the time the sounds of effort and splintering wood reached his ears, he was puffing hard and his lungs burned. /What is she doing up there?/

He could hear strain and rage in her voice, but no fear, and no signs of anyone else. He paused there, catching his breath and occasionally hearing a gargantuan crash that startled him and made him really start to...wonder. /Ripley breaks trees. Everyone says she's just a master martial artist or similar, and that's why she disdains weapons and can destroy the local plant life. But this..../

He had to look. And so he crouched down and moved forward, using the cover of the brush and trees until he had a clear view of Faith--and what she was doing.

He froze. He stared. He tried to rationalize what he was seeing, failed utterly, and finally just shook his head and watched in wonder.

When she finally collapsed, he sucked in a breath, a look of concern crossing his face in spite of the incredible sight he had just taken in. Thinking quickly, he backtracked several yards...and then straightened and deliberately stepped on a twig.

"Who's there?"

Sayid walked over openly, pausing at the edge of the small clearing. His eyes were downcast, and his tone contrite. "My apologies. I saw you leave for the forest and...thought that this is not a time for any of us to be alone, especially...out here."

/What is she?/

"If you wish, I will leave you in peace."

The sound of a twig snapping brought Faith fully to attention. The flow from relaxed to defensive was fluid and liquid, and unconscious like nearly all things that she did.

"Who's there?" Faith called out warily. She half hoped it was the rapist, looking to make an easy mark; the other half of her wondered who the hell had even wanted to follow her, never mind did so.

Sayid stepped out of the trees, "My apologies. I saw you leave for the forest and...thought that this is not a time for any of us to be alone, especially . . . out here. If you wish, I will leave you in peace."

Faith stared at him for a moment, incredulous before shrugging it off. (He actually is trying to protect me? Kinda sweet, I guess, except most men realize really fast that I really can take care of myself, and them usually.)

"Nah, you can hang," Faith said casually, the sting in her skinned and bloodied knuckles slowly permeating her awareness. Slayer healing would take care of it by morning, but right now it was really starting to sting like a bitch. She tried not to rub them. "I had some stuff I needed to work out. You musta been walkin' a pretty good clip to follow me.

"And, oh yeah, thanks for watching my ass. I mean, you know, lookin' out for me." Her words and manner were genuinely friendly; she didn't have the energy or the interest in flirtation or sexual innuendo right now.

The way Faith stared at him made Sayid very nervous for a moment; he did a good job of hiding it. /Does she suspect that I saw her? No, she looks too...amused./

"Walking a good clip?" he couldn't /quite/ keep the incredulous amusement out of his voice. /Yes. Of course, walking. I hide my rocket boots in the bushes when I'm not using them./ "I was obviously undereducated regarding your ability to look after yourself. But you were..." he shook his head. It was not right to sound too personal or critical, but he wished to be honest. "You seemed...distracted to the point of disregard for your personal safety. I do not wish to be disrespectful. But in all honesty, I would not leave anyone alone under such circumstances."

His bronze skin reddened just a little as Faith's ass made a brief appearance in the conversation, but he recovered after a moment. "You are welcome. You joined the watch nearly the moment you arrived; you've shown a great deal of initiative in assisting us, and I do not want to see such generosity badly repaid." Faint smile.

He sighed. He had meant to ask her before about Mara; now that this had happened and he saw Faith in a fury clearly not provoked by a simple stranger suicide, he wondered if he should hold off. "I noticed that your friend, Mara, was having some difficulty coping with the situation."

Faith smiled tightly. "Yeah. You could say that."

"She...forgive me...seems quite fragile. And I heard she was one of those who discovered the body. Is there...anything that can be done for her?" /What was done TO her? And under what circumstances? Who did it to her? I've seen eyes like hers before, staring from behind blanket walls in the shells of bombed-out buildings. I've seen eyes like hers peering at me between prison bars. Who was responsible?/ He held a barrage of questions back; now was not the time to press, but since he'd first seen Mara's haunted face, he had wondered, and the wondering had taken him back to memories he wanted nothing to do with anymore.

"Yeah, she is that. Fragile, I mean." Faith sprang to her feet, idly rubbing her knuckles. She realized what she was doing, looked down and forced herself to stop. "But she's got friends, we've got friends who know how to calm her and help her deal so it's all good."

Faith watched Sayid's gaze drift to her knuckles and heard the expected question, "You are hurt?"

"I took my frustrations out on a tree," Faith joked. "I'll be okay, but I think I might owe the tree something of an apology."

She tilted her head and studied Sayid, not sexily or seductively, just curiously. "So, what else is on your mind?" At his startled blink, Faith grinned, "Yeah, I've been told that I could use a little tact and subtlety. But that's just so not me."

Sayid nodded slowly at Faith's reassurances about her delicate friend, but his eyes were too thoughtful.

He snorted when she mentioned apologizing to the one-woman logging operation that used to be a tree. "I think it is a bit late for apologies. Perhaps you should contact its next-of-kin."

At her direct question, he fidgeted slightly and let out a sigh. "Partly it was concern, as a stranger's suicide seemed to affect you and your friend far more than many of the others. I didn't get the impression that either of you knew Lucy, and..." he spread his hands a bit helplessly. "I was largely acting on instinct."

The rest was even more awkward. He looked at his boot-tops briefly, then steeled himself and said, "Mara appears to have suffered from some sort of...trauma. I noticed it in the Doctor's..." his mouth worked slightly, "...ship. It is none of my business, but I was left wondering about it. The look on her face...I have seen it before."

Faith gave a low, throaty chuckle at Sayid's joke about the next of kin. "You know, you're all right, Sayid."

When he grew awkward, asking about Mara, Faith's curiosity was piqued. She didn't know what Sayid thought Mara had gone through, but she doubted that it was anything even remotely like possession. (And I can't tell that story. It's not mine.)

"She did," Faith admitted, telling what she could. "A few years back. It left her pretty sensitive to a lot of stuff, I guess. I wish I could tell you more, but it's kinda not my place, you know?"

"As for Lucy..." There was a pause while she considered Sayid. "Let's just say that there was some ideas regarding what might have made her kill herself. If they're true, and I sorta think they are, it kinda pissed me off."

Sayid laughed a bit awkwardly. "I do my best."

The news about Mara had an odd effect; Sayid's inward flinch translated itself into sudden restlessness. "I...see. I understand." /It's true, then. Someone broke her. Her woundedness, her tendency toward unquestioning compliance...yes. Entirely too familiar./ Curses in Arabic were as pretty as the rest of the language; he muttered a few under his breath, seeming to take whatever happened to Mara a little personally. "I am sorry," he said simply, knowing that made up for nothing but feeling that it needed said regardless.

The mention of Lucy's suicide being triggered by something made him look at her sharply and with sudden worry. /I was right, then. It wasn't just the suicide./ "If I was not concerned before...I certainly am now. What...sort of ideas?"

Now it was Faith's turn to shift a bit uneasily, as she weighed what she could and couldn't tell the older man. The older, hot man. The anger was burning away, and she could definitely newly appreciate Sayid again, although restraint and logic that she hadn't possessed in a previous life still held her flirtatious and sexual urges in check.

Faith whipped hair back from her face, vowing to get it all into a ponytail or something soonish, "There's some suspicion that she . . . that she didn't do what she did just 'cause she was depressed. Like she might have been driven to it to escape from something that happened to her.

"We don't have any proof, yet," Faith added, realizing that even though the man had walked on a spaceship of sorts, he might not be receptive of Mara's unique psychic abilities, "But it's going to be looked into."

(If not by the people in charge, then by me.)

Sayid had to school his face into an expression of simple concern as the potential implications of what Faith was saying hit him. As was his habit, he weighed the rumor with some skepticism, knowing that there would be a temptation to both find a cause and a scapegoat for something this senseless. But as was also his habit, he considered the ways in which a person might be driven, not by circumstance or temperament but by outside actions, to take their own lives. Sayid knew of enough to make a less professional man queasy. (Or queasier, in this circumstance). But as there was no telling which scenario, if any of them, had taken place, he pushed speculation aside after a minute and sighed worriedly.

"If I can be of assistance in this matter, please let me know," he said with quiet sincerity.

He ran out of words then for a minute, and they stood there looking at each other. It was amazing, how such a small, doe-eyed woman--barely a few years into adulthood really--could have strewn this much wreckage around the clearing. What worried him most, though, was that she was just as distracting now as before he knew she could probably have beaten him arm-wrestling.

He let out an embarrassed little cough, and bent to start gathering up some of the larger pieces of splintered wood. "Well, at any rate, your exertions have saved us some trouble. This should be enough for the pyre...."

Faith began to entertain a few ideas regarding how he could be of assistance to her personally, then wondered if that was a bad thing under the circumstances. The fact that she wondered at all told her how far she had come from the woman, well girl really, that she had been when she left Sunnydale.

"Yeah, um, when we know more, we might need some assistance," Faith admitted simply.

Watching him bend over to retrieve the splintered wood, Faith felt the corners of her mouth curl into a licentious smile. She joined him in the retrieval efforts – no reason to let the tree have suffered unnecessarily after all – and said in a tone that matched her smile, "Well, my normal exertions usually only leave me sweaty."

Sayid nodded, pondering the strangeness of the situation as he gathered up pieces of smashed, sap-bleeding wood.

The pyre would be hard to light even if they left the wood dry overnight, and a corpse in the tropics would not wait that long. They'd have to sacrifice a good lot of shredded raffia to get it burning...

/Wait. Is it my imagination, or is she checking out my--?/

The tease in her voice confirmed it, and he suddenly became very aware that he'd hared off after her into the depths of the woods alone, and--the sort of embarrassing rumors that was likely to get started. Not to mention the situation itself suddenly becoming just a little bit...distracting. "I...certainly hope so? Splinters are very inconvenient."

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