maskormenacelogs | hello again, friend of a friend

( Looking at Sarah like this, all shook up, so clearly not okay, Sarissa moves slower than usual. )

Mate, I'm just glad to see you. ( Not like this, not beat up and hurting, but here. Solid. That's more than what Sarissa knew was right to hope for, but she'd been hoping anyway. She swallows, moving closer but taking her time, as much as she can, gaze dropping to Sarah's leg before sweeping back up.

There's a little smile, reassuring. ) Hey. I've got some painkillers and I can put my belt around your leg to get that bleeding to ease up, if you want.

( Only if Sarah wants, though, as she holds out her hand to gently touch Sarah's shoulder. ) You're gonna be alright.

[ Sarah closes her eyes, just briefly, in relief. Some painkillers, a better way to stop her from bleeding out. A friendly face. All of it seems like too much to believe. ]

Yeah, that'd be good. Thanks.

[ She straightens up as much as she can manage, back still aching from the swing of Rachel's cane, and extends her right leg so Sarissa can tie the belt around it, teeth grinding together, movements agonizingly slow. It hurts. Hurts, hurts, hurts. Right now, she can't pinpoint a spot on her body that doesn't feel like it's been bashed all to hell. ]

Alright. ( Hand withdrawn, she unbuckles her belt and drags it through the loops of her jeans, crouching down to get a better look at Sarah's leg, and loosely looping it above the wound. One of her hands holds it loosely in place, and she looks up at Sarah. )

This is going to suck. Grip on my shoulder if you need to, okay? I'm solid, you won't hurt me.

( And there's a window for Sarah to grab her shoulder, before Sarissa settles the former-hat back in place, and pulls the belt tight, and hard, letting the tooth of the buckle hold it in place. )

Sorry.

[ Sarah grabs her shoulder, hard, and lets out a choked cry of pain as Sarissa cinches the belt tight. Her eyes swim with fresh tears, but she bites down on her own lip and refuses to make another sound, just breathes hard until the pain levels off enough for her to speak. ]

Shit, you weren't lying. [ Wasn't quite as bad as actually pulling the knife out had been, but then, pulling the knife out had been a temporary pain. This one's gonna last her. ]

( The grip hurts, but Sarissa doesn't flinch, just looks steadily up at Sarah and waits a moment to make sure it's enough, that it'll do. )

I'm a little ball of sunshine and honesty.

( Quiet, a throwaway line of her trademark stupidity as she straightens up, pain pills and a plastic bottle of water in hand. ) Nothing potent.

( She remembers that one time. No, these are definitely not that strong, just regular grade painkillers. Her voice is still quieter than usual, steady rather than a balancing act of flippancy and charm and impending explosiveness of some kind. ) Have some of these. We can-- uh. We can port over, I'll get you there. Okay? Think you're up for that?

[ Sarah takes the water and the pills with shaking hands and pops them all in her mouth at once. She doesn't care what they are, honestly. Anything will help. After, she takes a deep breath and looks up at the building. ]

Yeah. Here, I'll— [ She struggles to stand without putting any weight on her bad leg. ]

( Later she's going to light a candle for Sarah's liver and kidneys. Jesus. A moment where she watches, nods, and then makes a face. )

Hey, come on. I'll carry you— if that's okay with you?

( There are times when she will be a presumptuous dickhead. This? This is not one of them. They need to move, but they don't need to move so fast that she'll risk making Sarah more shook up than she already is. )

[ Normally, Sarah might protest, but she's literally just been ported in from a long, painful, freezing limp through woods and across a rocky beach, and she's not looking forward to even the relatively short walk back into the building to port over to De Chima. She nods. ]

Yeah. Just—sorry if I yell or something. I think she stuck that knife all the way down to the bone.

Yell as much as you need to, yeah? No worries.

( And, with that established, excuse her as she stoops just enough to bring one arm behind Sarah's knees, and the other behind her back, scooping her into an easy bridal carry. There's not even a hint of struggle to it on Sarissa's part, because enhanced strength is awesome. )

Let me know if I jostle you, or something. ( Although she's going to be moving as carefully as she can, and she takes a step forward—

It feels for a second like the world stops, like there's something hooking behind her lungs and pulling sharply forward, enough that it could make her stumble. Might have, even, except that she's holding Sarah and so she's as steady and controlled as she's ever likely to be, even if she feels like she's in two places at once as the memory is dragged out of her mind and pushed into Sarah's. Sarissa is just living something over again, but Sarah has the vantage point of being some invisible extra in the memory.

It's Sarissa, lying on a dark grey sofa and wearing a sweater that's obviously far too big, hair drawn up messily. Everything about her looks messy, because she's obviously sick - red nose, cuddled up in a blanket and with a waste paper basket full of issues and a packet of some sort of throat soother on the coffee table in front of her, the tv on but without anything showing. She just feels sore and tired and crappy, and then there's the sound of a door swinging open, and a voice. The voice feels so familiar, the kind of thing that just makes you feel better from hearing it. Markedly American, and an awareness that somehow it's more distinct here than it might be in other places.

“Theron, you awake?”

From down the hall there appears a woman, holding plastic bags and bringing with her the scent of food, sharp and spicy and warm. She's—

beautiful, definitely, long blonde hair that falls in waves and a mouth that quirks into a smile with the sight of Sarissa curled up on the sofa, as Sarissa eases herself up. Despite how gross she feels? There’s a smile. There's the feeling it's a smile that only Georgia gets, that only Georgia draws out.

“Hey.”

Georgia hangs up her coat, and stops in her path to lean over the back of the sofa and press a kiss to Sarissa’s forehead.

“How’re you feeling?”
Georgia’s question gets her a bit of a shrug, and Sarissa leaning against her shoulder in a silent expression of terrible. “I'm gonna put on Anastasia, and you’re going to have some of these three different soups, and we’re just going to chill out. Okay?”

Sarissa has that look of confusion that could come from being sick, or could just be related to her question. “You don’t have to work?”

She’s rewarded with Georgia shaking her head a little. “I don’t have to work,” echoed, and only quietly. “Make room for me, okay? You want hot and sour soup first, or wonton?”

The memory staggers, then, goes strange, and there’s a final moment of Georgia behind Sarissa on the sofa, arm looped around her stomach and pulling her back against her as she presses a kiss to Sarissa’s jaw, and Sarissa quietly tangling their fingers together as they watch the movie, before it cuts short completely—

the warmth of blankets twists into the suddenly oppressive seeming, feverish heat of Florida, and Sarissa stands incredibly still, still holding Sarah, and feels unable to move for a moment. )

Edited 2016-09-02 01:24 (UTC)

[ Sarah doesn't know what's happening, or why, but she doesn't like it. She doesn't care that Sarissa's memory is a good one, or that she's seeing what Actual Satan looks like for the first time, or that it's sickeningly cute, although she processes all of those things. She's too busy panicking because all she can really understand, at first, is that she's witnessing some kind of personal moment in Sarissa's life, some moment that shouldn't be broadcast for anyone else to see, and that it's wrong for her to be watching it. It's wrong and it's uncomfortable and she nearly manages to struggle out of Sarissa's arms, only stopping when fresh pain shoots up her leg and she has to go still, groaning, or risk the wound ripping open further. ]

What— [ she manages to croak, about to say What the fuck, I'm hallucinating—hell, it's happened before—when one of her own memories rises to the surface and passes between them, that same, strange feeling in her gut.

They're in a hospital room, sterile, white, Sarah kneeling on the ground next to an operating table, holding onto the hand of a little girl with curly brown hair, obviously Kira, Kira in scrubs and with oxygen tubes taped to her face. Her little hand is so small that Sarah's covers it completely and she has to grip onto Kira's arm with her other hand. Felix stands behind them, close enough to be included, but letting them have this moment together.

"I'm gonna be here the whole time, okay?" Sarah says in a voice Sarissa's never heard before, a voice softer and kinder and better than the Sarah she's used to. "And I'll hold your hand, yeah?"

Kira nods, too nervous to speak, and then a nurse is saying, "Can you count back from 100 for me, Kira?" Kira does, and her accent isn't like Sarah's. She was born and raised in Toronto. There's no England in her. She gets to 97 before her eyes close and she drifts away, unconscious.

Sarah keeps holding her hand, kisses it, and murmurs, "Sleep tight, monkey." It's only now that Kira's asleep that she lets any tears come to her eyes. Behind her, Felix crouches down, puts a hand on her back. "What kind of a mother am I?" Sarah asks him, and— ]

( She's heard a little about Kira before. Words never quite convey enough about a person, no matter how much you adore them. Words would never sum up Georgia properly; words hadn't summed up Kira. It's hard to realise just how small and fragile kids can look, and it makes her chest feel like its seizing up.

She's so small, and Sarah's so—

It's something she wasn't meant to see. That she shouldn't be witnessing, a secret moment where Sarah's vulnerable and her kid is scared and something is happening that Sarissa doesn't understand. She doesn't falter, but her hearts beating too hard and her lungs feel like they've been rubbed raw, and she has to stay still for a long moment before she makes herself take a step, and then another, and breathe. )

This place is doing weird things again.

( It's gotta be this place, right? That was the only thing that made sense. Only thing that had some kinda logic to it, in that this place had so little logic.

Her throat is raw and her voice is quiet. ) Is she okay?

( Kira, she means. Is Kira okay, is Sarah okay, is—

Nothing seems okay. Georgia is fresh in her mind, and she can feel Sarah's pain and her fear in her chest like some kinda emotional hangover, and she has to keep walking because she isn't sure what else she can possibly do. )

[ Sarah doesn't say anything at first, just shuts her eyes and hopes that maybe when she opens them this will have all been a fucked up dream. All of it, the updating and calling Sarissa and this—this thing with the memories, and—and it's not going away, it's not stopping, and eventually she lets out a long, shuddering sigh. ]

I don't know. [ Her not knowing has nothing to do with the memory Sarissa's just seen and everything to do with what she's just lived through back home, but she doesn't elaborate, doesn't give any more information. God knows Cosima will have enough questions when they get to her lab. Besides, there's nothing she can do about it now. Absolutely nothing, and it's killing her. ]

Let's just... get there, okay? [ The words come out almost pleading. ]

Yeah.

( Yeah, of course. Good idea. No talking, just moving.

Save for that Sarissa can't shake any of it, or the feeling like someone just reached into her head and pulled out something that she'd rather have forgotten. That would have been better forgotten. Her jaw sets, and she keeps moving, picking up the pace. )

Her place, or her lab?

She's at the lab.

[ Sarah cracks a weary smile. She's not sure if it's the fact that she's bleeding, or a lack of sleep, or the panic of what she's just seen, but she feels as though she could close her eyes and sleep for days. ]

Wouldn't wanna get blood in her house. [ She figures the lab is at least built to be easily cleaned. Besides, Cos was already there when she called. ]

Course she is.

( Precious smol nerd. She doesn't comment on the blood, or sleepiness. ) Try to have more water.

( She should have bought more, and she chastises herself for it, but she didn't know what she was probably dealing with and just grabbed some basics. Getting to Sarah fast had seemed more important, and that seems stupid, now. She's been away from her job too long, probably. Then again, she'd always been better with taking bombs apart than the other stuff. )

Lab could use a bit of colour, anyway. ( Whoop, up the steps they go, and towards the porter, ignoring any looks. ) Ready, champ?

[ Sarah obediently sips at the water bottle. She thinks about flipping off anyone giving them strange looks as they move toward the porter, but then decides against it. Fuck them. They don't matter. Anyway, that'd be too much effort right now. ]

Don't call me that. [ Great, now she sounds like Helena. ] Ready when you are.

Gotcha.

( With a huff of laughter - yeah, Sarah'll be alright, she reckons. She moves into the porter, and in no time? De Chima.

She keeps walking once they're there, until they're out of the building, more focused on moving than on talking. Even so: ) Flying'll be faster than a cab.

( Thinking. Also, most cabs aren't really game for people bleeding everywhere. )

You up for it?

Fly?

[ Sarah can remember the last time she saw Sarissa fly. She faceplanted into the sand, didn't she? Broke her arm or something? Sarah's not confident, but she's also not exactly in the position to say no. ]

You sure you're not gonna drop me?

I'm sure. I've been practicing, promise.

( Not while carrying people, admittedly, and it's not always so fun if her blood sugar gets low, but she had food earlier. Her tone's gentle, even so. ) Get you there faster. Maybe like... five minutes, tops.

Okay. Yeah. I trust you.

[ Sarah's not totally sure if she trusts Sarissa re: flying across the city with Sarah's life in her hands, specifically, but she does trust Sarissa in the general sense, of course she does, and she's a little worried if they walk the whole way she's going to pass out by the time they get to the lab, so! Flying it is! And hey, maybe she'll pass out anyway and get to skip the whole flying part, so to speak. That'd be nice. ]

( Listen, mate, she's got this.

That said, she makes sure hold on Sarah is extra steady, and exhales a slow breath before sparks start, like the flecks of light from a sparkler, and then intensify. They come faster, brighter, and it only takes ten seconds or so for it to be a full blow force to lift them off the ground, and that's when Sarissa's leaps.

Then they go a shitload faster, blazing a path, Sarissa taking just a couple of pauses to sprint along the rooftops of buildings before relaunching them. It's not exactly flight, but it's as high speed as she can go without jarring Sarah. Leaving her with a deep seated horror about heights was another matter, of course.

She lands in a crouch outside Cosima's lab, still holding Sarah, and just slightly breathless. It takes a lot out of her to keep her legs from shaking, and if Cosima has a fridge in her lab? She's going to be diving in, probably. )

We're here. ( Needlessly said, but she feels like she has to say something as she straightens up and goes to kick at the door to Cosima's lab instead of knocking. She probably needs to stop doing that to people's doors. )

[Cosima has been waiting for them to arrive, but Sarissa kicking through her door holding a nearly unconscious Sarah is far from the entrance she was expecting. She lets out a startled yelp before rushing over, reaching for Sarah with both arms.

She motions for Sarissa to help her carry Sarah to her "chill zone"- an area she's set up in a corner of her lab that looks far more homey than the rest of the room. There's a plush rug covering the otherwise cold floor, the wall is decorated with taped up photos and some twinkling lights, and a well- stocked mini-fridge (you're welcome, Sarissa) sits in the corner. There's also a very comfortable couch covered in pillows and blankets. It's that couch that Cosima is leading them all to.

She works quickly and efficiently, carefully guiding Sarah onto the couch. She's in "serious scientist" mode, which is very different from her "enthusiastic scientist" mode. The only thing that betrays how worried and scared she is are her hands. They won't stop shaking.]

Holy shit, guys. What happened?

[ Sarah tries to wave her sisters off before they deposit her on Cosima's couch. Key word: tries. ]

Cos, no, I'm gonna get blood everywhere...

[ Too late. RIP, Cosima's couch, at least until Alison and her cleaning powers show up. ]

( The couch will survive, surely. Sarissa doesn't look down her at herself; in retrospect wearing a light grey shirt was probably a poor decision. With Sarah safely on the couch and her arms free, Sarissa looks at Cosima. Her muscles are aching from gripping Sarah so tight all the way here, blood smeared across her left arm. )

I don't know. ( What happened to Sarah, that is. ) Just got her here quick smart.

( And, a glance between Cosima and Sarah, ) What do you need me to do?

[Cosima manages to toss a few pillows to the ground, just before they get Sarah settled. She gestures Sarissa toward those with one hand, her eyes still fixed on Sarah.]

You need to sit down before you collapse.

[She hopes Sarissa will listen and won't need more convincing because Cosima doesn't have the energy for it. All of her energy is focused on Sarah, her hands sweeping just above her body, as if she can not only heal the injury, but sense where the injury is with her powers. (Spoilers, she can't.)]

Sarah, I need your help for like, five minutes, okay? Just stay with me for five minutes... Where's the most serious injury?

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