RP: Unease Characters: Jaime, Roland Time/Date: Evening, September 11 Location: rec area Warnings/Rating: None Summary: Jaime frets Status: Complete
Jaime was less than thrilled with the discussion she, Lily, and Tyler had had that morning. It was making her face truths that she would rather pretend didn't exist. But ... they were sending people "home" which everyone knew was slang for "killing them" and Jaime didn't like the idea of separation. It was ridiculous -- shouldn't she hope she got sent home?
But home didn't have Mal, and now that they'd smoothed things out ... she didn't want to be apart from him. It wasn't like she had any say in that though, and it irritated her.
He could get home. Or she could. Lily could, or Tyler, or Spike, or anyone else she'd made friends or acquaintanceship with. If she went home ... she wouldn't remember them. Would things be changed for her? Would she know something had happened? Or would it all be like some sort of bad dream she couldn't quite recall and didn't really want to?
Jaime was holding onto the hope that it was bullshit. Just something to bait them with, to make them hopeful, and no one would be leaving. To be killed. If they were actually sending people home, that'd be good. Great, really. But ... she wanted to go with Mal. And that was dangerous to want.
She absently wondered if he'd be missing his toes when he went back, and assumed so. That'd be interesting for anyone to explain, wouldn't it? So she wondered if that meant ... he'd never get home. Was it selfish of her to wish they'd both stay here? Likely so, and that bothered her.
Jaime sighed as she sprawled across the couch, turning on the TV and flipping through the channels to try to find something to watch to take her mind off of Monday.