Crossing Lost: Getting Here is the Easy Part

Megabyte reached the kitchen and observed that he wasn't the only one happy to find real food. Conversation was a light buzz and hum, underscored by the quiet that ensues when hungry people are serious about eating.

A stack of plates had been placed on the counter and grabbing one, he began loading it up with bacon, eggs and toast. "Who cooked?" Not that he cared really. From the sounds of enjoyment, it was a good meal.

"That would be May," Daniel called out. The archaeologist was scribbling furiously on a pad while drinking coffee and absently shoving food into his mouth. From Jon's smirk and shake of his head, Megabyte figured that this must have been how Daniel looked and operated when not in the jungle wilds. "Evidently we have quite a cook among us. It's delicious."

"Smells like it," Megabyte agreed. He set his plate aside. Finding the coffee mugs was also easy – someone actually left the cupboard open, something that even he'd learned long ago was a good way to ram your head. He grabbed a mug and closed it, and poured himself a cup of coffee. Black. He needed it black.

Plate balanced on one hand, coffee mug in the other, he began to make his way back towards the door.

"Too good to eat with us?" Jon called out.

"Yes," Megabyte joked, then followed up with, "I thought I'd keep Claire company."

"Hold off on that just a minute, or twenty," Daniel looked up and waved him towards a chair. "Have a sit down. I think it's time to round everyone up and do a morning briefing. We're not in the clear yet, everyone. We still have a lot to do, and some things to decide.

"Anyone seen Locke, the Doctor, Ripley or Sam?"

Despite a few scowls, no one voiced an objection. Food was great. Real beds were great, but Megabyte doubted that anyone had forgotten that they still had several scientists, guards and nurses under lock and key.

From:

Anyone notice that Daniel didn't ask after Faith or Dean? *snerk*

(Or Methos or House, but that's because he doesn't expect the doctors to be the logistic types, he figures that Methos is seeing to the women, and he really doesn't care where House is as long as he's not interrupting.)

From:

he's just jealous...NOT hee hee

From:

Sam was in a good mood. They'd secured the Dharma -- (philosophical much?) -- bunker with little incident, and the spiny demon Dean had described apparently hadn't caused any trouble. Thanks to May's spaghetti dinner, a gloriously hot shower, an actual bed, and a surprising lack of nightmares, Sam felt better than he had in weeks. The knowledge that at some point Dean would tell him far more than he wanted to hear about his sexcapades with Faith didn't dampen his spirits one bit. In fact, he was already thinking of choice put downs to keep his brother's ego in check.

John fell into step beside Sam as he approached the cafeteria. "Good morning," the older man said with quiet smile. Somehow he'd found the time to clean the clothes he'd been wearing for the past few days, and only carried one sheathed knife. Sam felt similarly secure in the bunker; he'd only taken the 9 mm handgun with him.

"Morning," Sam returned. "How's Daisy?"

John's smile grew wider. "Doing well. Sleeping soundly." He inhaled the aroma of coffee, eggs, and bacon wafting from the cafeteria. "I'll bring a plate back to the room for her."

Sam nodded. The pair strode into the cafeteria to find several of the survivors chowing down on a very American breakfast. They exchanged hellos with the group, helped themselves to the rapidly diminishing mounds of food, and sat with the others.

From:

Tara couldn't sleep, but her body wouldn't quite wake up either. Her dreams were nightmares she couldn't even scream herself awake from. She was full of emptiness, but couldn't quite remember why, or what was even missing in the first place.

Through the night, some force would gather within her only to climax and flow through her like water through a sieve. The greater the strength of the force, the greater the pain and agony when it flowed through her.

External emotions flooded her brain and confused her such that she no longer knew where she began and where she ended, or if she even existed as an individual anymore.

Simply put, Tara wanted to die.

ooc note: Tara's magic discharged throughout the night because she can't hold onto it anymore. Some of your might have noticed if you wish. Not large banging discharged, so small glamour types (noises, lights, and some energy discharges). She's still not able to wake up. I think she's going to be out for at least another day. The external emotions she feels are some of Damon's borrowed psychic ability.

From:

Sounds, voices, words, feelings all whispering across her mind. Ami moaned softly, turning away from the distractions, the things that threatened her sleep. The voices came and went, rose and ebbed; smells permeated her senses and feelings were all around her. She shifted in her sleep, muttering softly, pleading for quiet.

She moved again. Empty. Alone. Something was missing. Scott. Where had Scott gone? He'd been there and now she couldn't feel him next to her. Panic rose, her mind reaching out desperately even in her sleep until she felt him, found him. Close, not physically close, but there in the back of her mind, a part of her awarenss. Just like everything should be.

Ami relaxed a bit, frowned in her sleep, wrinkled her nose.

Too much stimulation. Smells, sounds, movement, feelings.

Psychically, she stirred. Physically, her body resisted.

She rolled onto her side with a faint murmur.

From:

Discomfort and panic surged across Scott's link with Ami. He froze with a forkful of eggs halfway to his mouth, relieved that her panic only lasted for a moment. Although Scott returned love and reassurance, Ami's unease continued.

"Are you all right?"

It took Scott a moment to figure out who'd spoken: John. He'd earned the attention of everyone else at the table, too. Now that Ami was safe and things had settled down, Scott was less than comfortable with everything he'd revealed in the past few days. "Yeah. I just... need to check on Ami."

Scott set down his fork and walked to the corner where Ami lie. He sat beside her, smoothing her hair and wondering what had disturbed her sleep. Through his touch he could tell that nothing had changed physically. /You're safe, love. Sleep now. I'm right here./

From:

weirdweb.livejournal.com

May was looking over at Scott and Ami with concern. She looked back at the table, realizing they were sitting and eating breakfast only a few feet away. It seemed... kind of inappropriate.

"You sure we want to have a briefing here?" she asked Daniel. "At least, not someplace where somebody's trying to recuperate?"

From:

Dean followed his nose to the cafeteria and found a small assemblage already there drinking coffee and eating breakfast. He passed by Sam and clapped him good-naturedly on the shoulder. "Morning, Bro! Sleep well?" His question was sincere, if a little distracted. Sexy babe or not, he still worried about his brother 24-7.

He was fixing him and Faith breakfast (a fact which Sam noticed with much curiosity) when a small explosion went off in a nearby room.

"What's that?" Dean sounded alarmed.

"It's Tara. It seems her magic is discharging randomly"

"Heh, wow. So that *was* fireworks last night. Cool."

Sam groaned and rolled his eyes.

Dean walked out with 2 cups of black coffee and 2 plates piled high with bacon and eggs deftly balanced in his hands.

From:

"You sure we want to have a briefing here?" May asked. "At least, not someplace where somebody's trying to recuperate?"

Scott glanced back at the table and saw that May was asking Daniel. "No, I'd rather we discuss things here where I can keep an eye on Ami," he interjected. "She's out cold. Will be for a while. After we're done talking I'll move her to another room."

From:

Ami was responding to a combination of Tara's magical mojo and the commotion around her. One or the other wouldn't have disturbed her; both got her psychic hackles up a bit. She's nowhere near fully awake.

I'm caught up in some stuff and am going to be AFK for a bit longer.

From:

That's what I figured. Thanks for the confirmation. :)

From:

It passed.

The uncomfortable pressing in from all sides, the suffocating and distracting stimulus faded away beneath a gentle touch and a flow of warmth and love.

(Scott,) her mind registered. She rolled into his touch, focused on his presence and clung to that, ignoring everything else.

/Safe./

She settled back into a healing slumber.

From:

ooc: I know a reference was made to Dean already being awake, but I'm going to just ignore that. No need to repost, it's accurate, if not timely.

Dean woke up groggy from too little sleep and too much adrenaline. It took him several moments to realize he was in a bed and that a woman was sleeping next to him. Dean smiled, "Cassie" he whispered to himself, stretched, and turned over to hold her.

Except she didn't feel at all like Cassie.

That brought Dean completely to his senses as he tensed up and tried to figure out what happened. /No hangover./ He deduced to himself. That was good. And then it hit him like a ton of bricks...albeit, pleasant Faith-smelling bricks, but bricks nonetheless, and he knew he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep. Besides, there was still that wonderful smell and he was definitely hungry.

Dean carefully got out of bed and covered Faith with the remaining blankets. She murmured and rolled over, but didn't wake. Dean dressed in some clean scrubs he found in the room and carefully left.

From:

purplerhino.livejournal.com

Rose felt like crap. But she felt less like crap than she had yesterday, and that was a bit less crappy than the day before. At least she was no longer a prisoner. And the Doctor had kissed her. She managed a smile despite the general crappiness of her condition.

“Well that’s an improvement.” The Doctor guided her to a table and set a bowl of soup and a cup of tea in front of her. There were even crackers.

“Do you have any idea how domestic this is?” The tea looked nice. But soup for breakfast? Her stomach fluttered at the sight of someone’s eggs. Oh. Right.

“I can make the occasional exception under certain circumstances.” He sat beside her and nicked a slice of bacon off Ripley’s plate.

“Is this going to be a reoccurring theme? Because if I decide to join up with you, I need to know how much I need to defend my food.” Ripley moved her coffee out of the Doctor’s reach.

“Bacon and chips. Oh, and onion rings. And occasionally ice cream… and digestives. Oh… and cucumber sandwiches.” Rose offered up. “Okay, yeah, he a food klepto.”

“Oi. I just don’t let things go to waste.” He snagged a cracker from Rose’s tray and grinned.

“I doubt my bacon was going to go to waste. I need protein. If I don’t get enough, you might start to look appetizing. Although you’re most likely stringy.” Ripley held her fork in a defensive position.

“So, you said you wanted to run some tests after I ate every drop.” Rose stirred her soup. Chicken noodle by the looks of it.

“Yeah. See what they put in your system, what it’s doing… or done, and maybe we can do something to help you feel better faster.” He was offering that mad smile, but she saw something else.

His eyes. He wasn’t telling her something. He also hadn’t mentioned the kissing bit. Oh, he was trying to avoid consequences there. Good at that, he was. But Rose had no intention of letting him. At least not once she felt a bit more at the top of her game.

“I heard you were up all night messing with the wiring to this place.” Rose managed to swallow a spoonful of soup. There was no real pain right now, so her stomach wasn’t rebelling.

“Yeah, had Rodney helpin’ for a bit. Made sure no lines ran in or out. I also rigged a jammer, so no signals can get in or out by remote. Unlike you lot, I don’t sleep half my life away.”

“You are so full of yourself.” Rose shook her head.

From:

Faith blinked her eyes open, waking slowly instead of quickly. That was still something to get used to: waking up with a guard announcing that it was time to wake up or without someone screaming or cursing, waking up without dreams or being completely startled.

She stretched leisurely, indulging in the feeling of a real mattress beneath her. Faith wouldn't get too used to it - bunking down inside this place every night would get real claustrophobic after a while, and she'd had enough of being surrounded by institutional gray and green for a good long time - nope, the occassional bed was fine. But she'd stick to the outdoors.

Of course, thinking about the bed called to mind *why* she was in a bed at all, and *that* jolted her awake.

"The fuck?" Faith sat up, looking around, her question directed to the empty room. "No way. No way." It wasn't the absence of Dean that bothered her -- that was actually a relief -- it was the realization that she'd actually spent the whole night with him. NOt that it hadn't been fun -- (A helluva lot of fun) -- but that just wasn't her.

Get some, get gone. That had always been her philosophy. Right up there after "Want, Take, Have."

Spending the night?

Strangely not as freaky as she imagined it would be once she wrapped her head around it. It meant something -- she'd trusted Dean enough to stay. Hell, she trusted herself enough to stay.

Faith didn't want to think about it too hard at the moment, so she shoved the thought aside.

(Not that I'm gonna make this any kind of habit. He'd better not think this is going to be a tradition,) Faith thought as she flopped back onto her back. A tumble and a roll here and there were all well and good, but she was so completely not Little Miss Domestic and wasn't about to pretend to be. She wasn't ready to play house yet, and really she wasn't polished and shined up enough to be anyone's girlfriend.

Fuck buddy? Now that was another matter entirely.

Faith rolled over on her side and closed her eyes, deciding to focus on the fact that she didn't have to watch her back or feel afraid.

She wasn't ready to admit it, but she liked the feeling.

From:

Redirect (http://community.livejournal.com/crossing_lostrp/96298.html)

From:

lost-mckay.livejournal.com

It doesn't take long for McKay to dispatch the eggs and bacon once he started, and the toast was merely that piece de resistance, the chance to mop up any stray piece that might have escaped his fork. Putting his utensil down, he picked up his mug of coffee, made to take another draught, and discovered in the action that it was, indeed, empty.

Sighing, the scientist pushed against the table, sliding the legs of the chair along the floor, and grabbed his plate at the same time in order to bring it to the sink. He doesn't mind a meeting, as long as something productive comes out of it. And with this group, well, he's not always sure. He reached for the coffee pot once more, and pulling the carafe away from the burner, found that it was empty.

"What is this? I'm the only one who makes coffee?" First on the beach, now here...

From: