[Ami] Letting It Loose (tag Scott, open)

[fikgirl.livejournal.com]

Ami and Scott are coming from here.

Scott's words, meant to offer comfort, did very little in that vein. He didn't understand – he couldn't possibly understand – how her thoughts and feelings made her feel; how wrong she felt and how wrong it felt to think such things. She'd never in her life wished someone dead – other than Masters and Carlson – she hadn't even wished Richard dead for his part in that, but here she was, engineered right down to her DNA to be peaceful and she wanted to see Amanda punished.

She wanted the woman to suffer like George must have.

Everything was wrong. Right now, even Scott felt wrong to her, so cold and so detatched without the affection and warmth she was used to feeling from him.

This place was wrong. It and everything and everyone in it was screwed up and wouldn't it have been so much better if she'd just died in the crash? Then she wouldn't have to be here, dealing with blow after blow, crises after crises; plagued by monsters in the jungle and monsters on the beach. At least the ones in the jungle didn't pretend to be human, not like the ones on the beach.

None of it made sense. None of it was right and all of it was wrong. Hideously, horribly, terribly wrong. So wrong that she could feel it in her bones moving beneath the sand, trying to move into her body, into her blood and corrupt her.

It was all wrong.

A wind whipped up around her, blowing sand. Gently at first, then gaining strength and momentum, tiny clouds of dust billowing up around their feet, growing larger and larger, pulling driftwood and sea weed, rocks and stones, flinging them outward and spinning them upwards as the maelstrom of sand grew. Near and far, tent flaps and shelter flaps began to move and sway, stirring in the wind that came from every direction. Fruit floated into the air, tossed there and caught by unseen hands and the ground beneath their feet began to tremble ever so slightly.

[OOC: Yes, that is more than a wee bit of uncontrolled telekinesis. And any similarity to X3 is purely coincidental; Ami's ability, when unchecked like this is actually canon. At 14 or 15 she teleported two fellow Tomorrow People, the blanket they were lying on, shook the house to the foundations and did a lovely job of rearranging objects and furniture in the process.]

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[Carlos] Making their escape (tag George, open)

[undead-shot.livejournal.com]

"Jesus." Something freaky was happening again, and Carlos had absolutely fucking no time for it. /Get George away from this. Let that pencil-pusher and his too-loyal-to-smack-him-into-shape cronies deal with it./ He had their meager belongings and the rolled-up shelter tied to his back with his rope, and was lugging along with George in his arms--now staggering with each step as he tried to make the treeline.

He made it--barely--and the wind was cut significantly right away. Although...watching a handful of pebbles drift past as if loaded with helium did absolutely nothing for his currently shaky mental state.

He headed for the stream, moving deeper into the jungle as he walked, trying to keep his mind on the business of taking care of George. Nothing else. Not now.

[George] Making their escape (tag Carlos, open)

[sinanju.livejournal.com]

George stared at the floating pebbles as Carlos carried her past them, wondering what the hell was up with those. She didn't have a clue, and no mental energy to spare to try to figure it out. Chalk up another weird mystery for the island.

Once they reached the treeline, George tried to get Carlos to put her down. It wasn't like she couldn't walk, after all. But he was stubbornly intent on carrying her. Taking care of her seemed very important to him right now, and truthfully? She liked it. It was very comforting and made her feel special. So she didn't struggle too hard.

When they reached the stream and Carlos finally set her on her feet again, George hugged him tightly for a long time, as much--this time--for his mental health as for hers. Then she stepped back and gave him as natural a smile as she could manage under the circumstances. "Time to get cleaned up, I think," she said.

George stripped her clothes off, including--after a brief glance in the direction of camp--the bandages. (Screw it,) she thought. (I've got more important things to worry about--like my boyfriend.) Still, she expected visitors eventually. Neither she nor Carlos knew how to find the crash site. Faith or Mara would have to lead the way eventually.

But that was later. Right now, she desperately wanted a bath. George waded out into the stream, still a little chilly this early in the morning. She put a little extra hip action into her walk, trying to imitate Faith. Not that she could compete with Faith for sheer voluptuousness or attitude, but if it got Carlos thinking about more pleasant things, that would be good. If he joined her, so much the better.

George dunked herself in the stream, then came up again, wiping her eyes, noticing the faint pink tint of the water washing downstream. Lovely. She glanced at Carlos, giving him her best lascivious smile.

[Carlos] Making their escape (tag George, open)

[undead-shot.livejournal.com]

Carlos's mind was racing as he stood watch over George. He took her clothes and bandages as she undressed, enjoying the shock/relief of finally physically seeing her with *whole* skin again even more than seeing her with bare skin at all.

Ironically, she seemed to be recovering from the whole mess faster than he was. But then again...she'd gotten over the whole "dead" thing, and he..../I challenge anyone to get an intimate view of their sweetie's internal organs (and most of her blood supply) outside the context of a Cesarean and not go completely nuts./

George's smile was inviting, and he knew he should go to her, but even with a lovely nude lady in front of him he was...it was like part of his mind was still bracing himself for "I'm sorry, we couldn't save her" like any other guy would have to be doing at this moment. (Well, except for Locke.) Part of his mind was still wrapped up in frustrated outrage, horror, and shame, and he...well, he couldn't say sex was entirely the furthest thing from his mind, being that there was a naked George about, but....

Still, he didn't want to disappoint her, so he shucked his makeshift pack, took off his boots and shirt and made a neat pile of their clothing on top of the stack. She seemed a little disappointed that his BDUs didn't join the pile, but...he knew it was gonna be one step back to "normalcy" at a time anyway.

He waded out and came up behind her, taking up handfuls of water and scrubbing her back. He refused to show how much getting her blood on his hands horrified him. /She's still here. Just keep that in mind. She's still here. But she suffered so fucking badly at that bitch's hands that a normal person wouldn't be. *I* was lucky that she could regenerate. That's all it is. Luck./

/(Thank you, God. Except for the whole her getting horribly stabbed with a rusty machete, anyway.)/

They knelt down in the water and he started washing her hair, gently running his fingers through it as he dribbled water down the strands. The water came out red, and red, and red, and his fingers trembled a little but he kept working until it was pink and then clear and he had finger-combed out the tangles.

He was oddly silent, mostly because he had no idea what to say or how to make this better except to keep taking care of her.

"I saw you," he said quietly as he worked on her hair. "I s-saw what she did to you. I don't hurt women. But this...God. I'm torn between feeling like a thug and wishing I'd killed her outright. If you didn't regenerate, I know I would have.

"I'm just so sorry I wasn't there."

[George] Making their escape (tag Carlos, open)

[sinanju.livejournal.com]

George turned her head to look over her shoulder at Carlos, at a loss for words again. (What do I say to that?) "Me too?" However much she might have wished for his presence, that wouldn't do. It might sound like she blamed him, or felt let down--which couldn't be further from the truth.

"I'm not" because she knew she'd survive and he might have been hurt too? He could easily take that wrong. "You can't be there all the time?" Hah. George knew that whatever else happened, Carlos wasn't going to let her out of his sight for quite a long while...and she didn't find that an unpleasant prospect at all.

"It's over," George said at last. She splashed a bit turning around to face him, then took his hands between hers. "I'm not saying it wasn't awful--it was--but it's over. And it wasn't your fault. Don't torture yourself with would've and could've and should've."

She felt a humorless smile play across her lips. "It's not like I would've let you babysit me even if you'd tried, you know. I'm a big girl...even if I'm not a big girl. I've been visiting the bathroom by myself for years now."

George stood up, pulled Carlos up to his feet in front of her. "It's over," she repeated, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing herself against him. He clearly wasn't in a sexy mood, but that was okay. It was still fun to slip and slide against him, and they both needed some fun right now. "Forget the past. Think about now. Think about tonight and tomorrow and the day after. I'm not going anywhere"

"That murderous bitch took her best shot and she lost. I'm not about to let her get between us now."

[Carlos] Making their escape (tag George, open)

[undead-shot.livejournal.com]

"I should know better, but right now I don't." He closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around George. "I couldn't just say 'oh, she regenerates' when I saw you like that. There are forms of torture that don't leave marks either. You still had to go through it. And I--"

/This is about the shittiest way possible to realize that you're in love with someone. Except, of course, her ending up actually dead./

He sighed and tucked her head under his chin, rocking her a little. "She's not getting between us, and neither are her actions. I admit I can't stand the fucking sight of her, and if that spin doctor who calls himself our leader doesn't do something decisive about this I've got doubts about returning to the beach."

"You're bein' pretty rough on Danny-boy."

"He's done shit about the rape. None of his people even /interviewed/ Mara, probably because they've got their heads up their asses about psychics and can't deal with the reality of the situation. I can't respect a leader who won't even /warn/ the local women that there's a sexual predator on the beach."

"Your white-knight streak is showing again."

"Yep." He kissed the top of her head, and then led her back to shore.

His attentions stayed completely nonsexual, simply because the horror of the situation was cooling his libido in a way only a zombie cheerleading team could have emulated. Later, he knew, the dam would break and she'd REALLY be in for it from sheer overflow of emotion.

He replaced Pierson's bandages with a fair amount of expertise, having tied a field dressing or two in his day, and helped her into her clothes. He was hovering too much, he suspected, but he couldn't help it.

He kissed her on the mouth for the first time since Amanda's butcher-work, and then pulled her into his arms again. "Where to now?" he asked.

[George] Making their escape (tag Carlos, open)

[sinanju.livejournal.com]

"I...uh..." George said, distracted by the kiss. (Focus, girl,) she told herself sternly.

"We, uh, should probably try to find Faith. I don't know where the plane crashed, and I don't think you do either?" Carlos shook his head, confirming George's supposition. "So we need--"

"Shoulda known I'd find you two here," Faith called.

George turned and spotted Faith emerging from the jungle farther up the bank. "Well, speak of the devil and she shall appear," George said. Faith grinned at them as she hopped with inhuman grace from one rock to another, stopping within conversational range.

"Now that I've found you two," Faith said, "I only have Mara and Ripley to track down. Then we can get a move on. There's a clearing about half a mile that way. After I find Mara and Ripley, I'm going to wait there for anybody who still intends to come along."

Faith gave them a mildly lecherous glance before she turned to go. "Meet me there when you're done here," she said. "In the mean time...carry on."

George watched her bound away, marveling at how lightly she moved. Then she turned her attention to Carlos again. "I guess that answers your question, huh?"

[Carlos] Making their escape (tag George, open)

[undead-shot.livejournal.com]

Carlos nodded, and sighed. "I guess the show must go on. Honestly, I'd rather go hide with you for a few hours."

George grinned a little. "And do what?"

Carlos chuckled somewhat self-deprecatingly. "Well, once the adrenaline overload stops fouling my stomach, I figured on taking it out on you in the nicest way possible."

"Oo! Huh. Shit! I hate my job sometimes."

Carlos smiled weakly. "Yeah, well, I need to walk some of this shit off anyway." He grabbed his shirt and pulled it on, then redonned boots and socks and started working on tying their belongings to his back again.