jodi duncan. (fanimal) wrote in invol_rpg, @ 2013-01-04 21:17:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! log, ! plot: kidnapping, daisy hughes, jodi duncan |
WHO: Daisy Hughes and Jodi Duncan.
WHAT: A reunion.
WHEN: Late in the day, January 4th.
WHERE: The American safehouse.
WARNINGS: Sadness and feels.
STATUS: Completed log.
The door to Daisy's tiny room clicked shut as Carter left, leaving two girls alone. It wasn't unusual for Jodi and Daisy to be alone together, sitting on a bed, one girl's head on the other's shoulder. Except this was not their room at IVI. No colorful posters or bedspreads, no red dirt outside the window. Even if they were in 3a, it would be different. Daisy is alive. Marine is dead. Daisy is alive and Marine is dead. This thought pumped through Jodi's head, relief and bereavement muting each other, so all she felt was empty numbness. When she looked at Daisy, her hair lank and eyes hollow, she could almost let grief take over. But she reminded herself that Daisy was alive, and so were Jack and Kier, so she pushed her sadness down with all her strength. Besides, she knew she wasn't looking all that well herself. She'd barely eaten, anxiety making keeping down anything but Cheerios and Diet Coke a struggle. She'd slept little and poorly. Her hair was a mess. They were so different from the two girls who had hugged good-bye, smiling, happy, excited for adventures in the real world only a few weeks ago. Were they even the same people any more, any of them? "I'm glad it's just us now," she said. Because even though she liked Carter, when he was being good to Daisy, there were some things that Jodi wanted just for her. The you're all rights and I missed yous and thank god thank god thank god you're okays had been one thing. But showing her full range of emotions right now was not something she was comfortable doing with Carter. "We can almost pretend we're in our room. That's where my Badlands poster would be. And a stack of clothes we can't find room for, there." "Mm," Daisy agreed with the hint of a smile as she tried to recall the room. She wasn't entirely sure that she could agree to be glad that Carter had gone, although she knew that it was something that he had to do. She understood what Omar had lost and understood why Carter needed to find him, even though her instincts were screaming against the idea of separation. The last time he'd left her sleeping in a bed -- But no, they were safe now. She repeated the words over and over again to herself. Where Jodi cycled names and life and death, Daisy tried to focus on her own endless stream of we're safe. And even though Carter was no longer holding her, Daisy wasn't alone. The feeling of Jodi's warm, familiar body next to her in bed was a kind of comfort that she couldn't get from Carter, or even from Hunter. When they'd first met, Daisy had been highly skeptical of the midwestern girl who'd worn (in Daisy's opinion) entirely too much plaid. But they'd found their way together, unable to keep their lives separate in such a small room. And every time that Daisy had woken up in that miserable cell, she'd prayed to Jesus that she might see Jodi's face when she opened her eyes. "Where'll the accordion be?" Daisy remembered Jodi's gleeful report of the ridiculous Christmas present she'd received, and her smile grew a little. Her accordion. Jodi wondered where it was now. Her dad had promised to ship the things she'd left behind, but she knew that he was forgetful about such things and didn't know if he'd have gotten around to it yet. "Under my bed, probably," she said, wondering how much stuff she'd have to move around to get it to fit. "Don't worry, though. I won't play it in the room, it's loud." She offered Daisy a brittle smile, the kind of smile that looked more like a grimace than anything happy, even though the thought of her accordion in their room was comforting. She could imagine 3a as a sort of oasis, that when they got back there, everything would be normal. Daisy's hair and eyes would shine again. Marine would be there, living and breathing and dreaming. At IVI, everything could be fine. She never thought she'd be longing for that place. She closed her eyes, letting out a long, slow breath. Daisy's eyes didn't leave Jodi's face, even when her eyes were closed. She was worried about Jodi, and that worry didn't feel strange or misplaced -- it felt constant, really, an uninterrupted emotion she'd been experiencing since the 26th of December. With no way of knowing which of her friends were safe or taken or even dead, Jodi had been consistently on Daisy's mind. The worry she felt for her roommate now was now just a dimmer version of that, with added definition. It wasn't hard to know what was wrong. Even after the trauma Daisy had been through, her emotional instincts were not gone, or even very badly damaged. She'd had the boys to look after, and that had kept Daisy as sharp as she could possibly hope to be. Now, her attention was shifted to the others. The friends who had looked so hard to find them. The people who'd feared her dead, even though she wasn't. She wasn't dead, Daisy reminded herself. It was supposed to be a happy thought. But her life couldn't make up for the ones that were lost. In fact, Daisy suspected that it served as a glaring reminder of the opposite. She didn't know how to bring the others back. Not for them, and not for Jodi. Daisy echoed the breath. She reached out to take one of Jodi's hands, lacing her fingers through it carefully. "What was it like?" It was the first time that Daisy had been able to ask the question, direct and upfront. The past ten days were a puzzle that she was attempting to put together, piece by piece. A part of her felt that maybe if she filled the void, the empty place inside would start to hurt a little bit less. "When we were gone, I mean." What was it like? Jodi didn't even know how to begin to describe it, the constant gnawing worry, the stress, her thoughts racing as she pressed on with the menial work she'd been given to do, until she collapsed in bed from exhaustion. Hearing about Erik and Alyosha and being so overcome with dread she'd been sick. Having too many people to worry about, and not knowing how to worry about all of them at once. Even now, with the outcome decided, she was drained and tired to the bone. Terrible, she wanted to say. That was the truth. But she didn't want to make Daisy feel guilty. It wasn't her fault she was kidnapped. She had done her very best, and she had survived, and that was what mattered. (Even if Marine hadn't. Marine was dead. How long had she been dead? Was it a nearly missed thing, poor timing, or was there never any hope?) "Everyone was really worried and stressed," was her final answer. "I was worried about you and missed you a lot. But... I was safe. And Ethan was here. So I was lucky." Daisy nodded, trying to picture it. This place felt so busy and full of life, and she hadn't even left this tiny room yet. What had things been like, the days where no information turned up, while Daisy and Jack and Kieran and Damien sat, wondering about their friends? Daisy reasoned that it must have been almost the same, only different. Louder, with more light. Just as much worry, with more freedom to move around and nothing to show for it. "I'm really glad he was here with you," Daisy said. It was the truth. "I thought about you all the time. Hoping that you weren't somewhere like me. Or... I don't know. Somewhere even worse." There were others, in Europe. Daisy had heard the names. She was sure they would flood her head, whenever she got the nerve to pick up her phone. It might have been worse there. It sounded like it had been worse. There were only two people who could tell her, the only ones left alive. It was Daisy's turn to close her eyes. "No," Jodi said, squeezing Daisy's hand. "I was here... I mean." She struggled to find words to describe her experiences, and at the same time was afraid to hear what Daisy's answer to the question what was it like? would be. "They sent us this text to barricade ourselves, and I hid in my grandparents' root cellar. Until the IVF came and took me here. I guess they did that with everyone." Then I found Ethan and told him I love him, she thought, but she wasn't sure if it was inappropriate conversation. Had Carter told Daisy the same? He'd certainly acted like it this whole time, Jodi thought, but with him, who fucking knew. "It's just been... really tense. I wanted you here with me, all the time. They have us in these little rooms, singles, and I kept looking across the room and wanting to see your bed. I tried not to think about what might be happening to you, because..." Because every option seemed too awful. "Otherwise I'd worry too much. But at least I had Ethan. Carter, he was so worried about you." At the mention of Carter's name, Daisy looked up and toward the door. There was an instant panic that rose inside of her, scrambling for his image in her mind. She tried to steady the feeling. We're safe we're safe we're safe, Daisy reminded herself. The feeling of Jodi's hand in hers is an even better reminder. She paused before she finally admitted another truth. "I thought I'd never see him again. Or you, or Hunter or -- " Lottie, she thinks, but the name hurts and Daisy found that she couldn't say it yet. Lottie, who had lost so much. How could she possibly face her, ever again? What comfort could Daisy possibly offer to the girl who had once called her a best friend? "-- anyone," Daisy finishes quietly. "I thought I was going to die. I don't understand why I didn't, even though..." She couldn't finish. Instead Daisy stared at Jodi's knee, unable to turn and meet her gaze. Jodi squeezed her eyes shut, holding back tears. Don't cry don't cry don't cry. She didn't want to start crying, and her throat already felt raw from the tears she hadn't been able to contain when she found out about Marine. By now, she should be wrung out. A part of her wanted to tell Daisy not to talk like that. People did die, Daisy dying had been her worst fear, or one of them. In unguarded moments, she'd imagined emptying all of her things out of their room, shipping them back to a family that surely wouldn't want reminders of a dead daughter they'd rejected. That didn't happen, so Jodi snapped the lid shut on that thought. "You must have been like... so scared." Her voice was wobbly, and she didn't trust it completely, but she made herself keep talking. "But I couldn't let myself think like that. Not with so many of you taken. I would have lost my mind." Daisy nodded slightly, and she could hear the pain in Jodi's voice. But for some reason, while Jodi seemed to be desperately trying to hold it together, the conversation was having a strange, calming effect upon Daisy. It was easier for her, looking back -- easier than looking forward had been, anyway. "I understand," Daisy said, although she wasn't entirely sure that she did, or that Jodi would ever really understand what it had been like for her. "I mean, we didn't give up." Not completely. Not always. "It was just -- like, a lot of time, you know? Nothin' to do except think." Daisy paused for a second before adding softly, "It was scary, but I had the others. So I wasn't alone." And maybe Marine hadn't been, either. Take deep breaths, Jodi told herself. Swallow away the tightness in her throat. Somehow, the idea of Daisy thinking that she would die was hard and heartbreaking. That was how real the danger was, for her. For Jack and Kier, too. For Marine, it had been completely real. She didn't really know what to say, how to comfort Daisy. Words seemed inadequate. Maybe if she had her guitar, she could play a song that would be soothing, but she'd left that in South Dakota with her accordion and her iPod. "Yeah, I mean, we were lucky here, we could keep busy," she said finally, settling on comparing experiences instead of even trying. "Even though, a lot of the time, it was like. Like all I could do was work because that was the only thing that could keep me from thinking the worst. Like." (Jodi was not articulate out loud at the best of times, but right now, she knew she was even worse.) "You and Jack and... are basically my best friends, here, so it was like, I was so afraid that I'd be left with just Ethan, even if that's selfish, and I should've been worried just for you. She didn't want to mention Marine's name. It caught in her throat and she skipped over it. But Daisy didn't need to hear the name to know that it was there, unsaid on the edges of Jodi's words. Daisy didn't know everything about Jodi, not by a long shot -- but few things about Jodi's life at IVI were a secret to her. Daisy knew who Jodi liked, who she spent time with, who she avoided, and who she loved. They shared things together, in that way. Like sisters with different friends and different lives, but who always managed to come home to the same house. "It's not selfish," Daisy said. She nuzzled her head closer to Jodi's, finding the familiar place on her roommate's shoulder. She waited until they were both comfortable before she settled in, closing her eyes. She could feel Jodi breathing. She counted the breaths in and out as if they were sheep. "I'm sorry about Marine." Daisy finally got up the courage to say. She is also sorry about Alyosha and Mal and Erik, but this name is for Jodi, not for her. Daisy is more than sorry, she is confused and guilty and conflicted in so many ways, but it's easier to deal with Jodi's emotions than her own. "I know it ain't fair. I don't know how to make it better." This, this was what made Marine dead, real. Jodi had almost been able to convince herself that hearing that news was a terrible dream. That was what Marine did, wove her way in and out of dreams and perhaps, in Europe, she had felt like Daisy had, that she was going to die. That was why Jodi had dreamed this. That was why she felt weirdly detached. But no, it was real, horribly real, because Daisy was saying that she was sorry, and Jodi didn't know how to feel. Her junior year of high school, a boy she went to school with had died. Too many beers and a car wrapped around a tree and for what seemed like ages, everyone at Stevens had spoken in hushed tones, and Jodi had thought it strange how she didn't see Kyle getting his saxophone ready before band any more. She had known how to act then: sad but not overdone, sympathetic glances to his friends and his girlfriend and his brother. Jodi didn't know how to act now. A part of her felt like she should break down and start sobbing again. The same part wanted to scream, or something, anything to show some emotion. But when she'd let go of Ethan, who had been, as usual, something to cling to when everything was too turbulent, she'd been overcome by a strange, alien stillness. "Yeah." It was more a breath than a word. She didn't know what else to say. I'm sorry too? I'll be fine? Alex will be worse than me? "She was -- " Lovely and confusing and fun? Jodi didn't know. "Great." Daisy didn't know how to respond to that. She didn't know Marine in the way that Jodi had; in fact, most of their correspondence had been negative. But Daisy had never wished the girl dead. "Yeah," she said simply. Daisy didn't know what more to offer Jodi. She kept her head still, focusing on her breathing. Jodi didn't want to talk about Marine. She didn't really know what to say about her, except that it fucking sucked that she was dead, and it hadn't quite sunk in yet. Not really. It might take awhile for her absence to become real. Instead, she leaned her cheek against Daisy's head, and changed the topic to what was probably the least interesting development since the kidnappings, to anyone but her. "I told Ethan I love him," she said dully, as if this transition ought to make complete sense. "Really?" Daisy opened her eyes, though she didn't move her head from its comfortable place on Jodi's shoulder. It took her a moment to work through the implications, to tear her own thoughts from their dead peers, but she got there eventually. "Wow." "Yeah." Jodi remembered that perfectly happy moment when he'd said that he loved her too, and wondered if she would ever feel that happy again. Right now, it didn't seem likely. But people recovered. Human beings were resilient; vols probably even more so. She wasn't sure she wanted to recover. "Is it like, shocking?" she said, memory of Daisy telling Carter she loved him after he kissed another girl. That was, she thought, a lot more wow worthy. "Not really, I guess." Daisy contemplates the question. It's a relief to think about something like this -- about love rather than death. "But I mean -- it's big for you, right?" Was it? It hadn't felt that big at the time, for Jodi, just the right thing to do. It had felt true. It still felt true. But then, it had been a long time since she'd told a guy that she loved him romantically, so maybe it was. "I guess so," she admitted. She hesitated before continuing, always feeling a little guilty about her boyfriend's seriousness while Daisy's didn't even want to be called a boyfriend. "But he said he loves me too, so I can't complain." "Good," Daisy said, and she smiled. She hadn't really doubted what Ethan would say in return -- if anyone had the upper hand in that relationship, it was undoubtedly Jodi. But it made Daisy happy nonetheless, because Jodi deserved to hear it. And Daisy had been starved for happy news. "I'm glad you have him," Daisy said, her voice somewhat sleepy. "So am I," Jodi murmured. She thought about elaborating, talking more about her feelings and their vacation, because that was such easier conversation than anything else that they might talk about. She also thought about saying something about Carter, but it all seemed insensitive, and Daisy looked so tired. She was tired, too, wanting badly to fall into restful oblivion, here with Daisy. The way things should have been all this time. "I'm glad I have you too." |