InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "You are getting sleeeepy ..."

Shannon Rutherford (ballerinadreams) wrote in vas_captio_rpg,
@ 2009-06-11 23:57:00

Entry tags:

!complete, day 10, location: gym, sam winchester, shannon rutherford

Day Ten - Late night
Who: Shannon Rutherford and Sam Winchester
What: Finally, she can go to sleep.
Where: behind the gym
When: 11:30pm-ish
Rating: PG probably
Status: Complete

The moon was shining brightly, almost as if to mock the captives, Shannon thought, as she laid on her back, staring up at it in the relatively pitch darkness of nightfall. The gym was in shambles and even when Sam had walked her slowly over there from the museum, she couldn't make herself go inside. So, Sam had gone in, retrieved whatever supplies he'd needed - she hadn't paid attention, choosing instead to close her eyes after taking the pain killer, and bite down hard on one of the clean sleeves of Remy's turtleneck - and he'd carefully cleaned and stitched the wound in her side.

That had been hours ago. There were no remains of a newly set sun; no more tremors or aftershocks rumbling their way through the town to unsettle the settled and disquiet the complacent. It had been, without a doubt, the longest day in Shannon's life...and that included the day she'd boarded Oceanic Flight 815 only to crash land before making her final destination.

"Someone died today," she told Sam in a numb, quiet voice, shattering the brief silence that surrounded them. "I think it was Bob." She was too tired to feel; too exhausted to cry. Too spent to lie to herself when she'd opened the journal to leave Remy a note and had noticed the Insider's page.

Taking a deep breath, she sighed. "I never met him. I kept meaning to, but we never crossed paths." She was talking just to hear the sound; any sound, for the lack of crickets was disconcerting. Her head lolled slightly to look up at Sam. L had asked if Sam had told her that he loved her before he left her earlier that day. Asked if he'd made sure she knew it in case either of them died. She didn't think that Sam loved her and she wasn't going to pretend that he did. Shannon didn't really know what love was, if she was honest, so if she felt it toward him, she'd never know the difference. All that she knew was that it felt like the worst was over for the day even if the worst on the grand scheme was still yet to come.

Having Sam there made her feel safer than she thought she had any right to feel. People were hurt worse than she was. People were maybe dying; had died...and all she could think about was knowing that Sam was safe and pushing away her worry that Domeki was not. Sam was right there beside her and at that moment, that was all that mattered.

Looking away from him again, Shannon wet her lips and stared back up at the sky, reaching up to fluff her makeshift pillow - that was, the Doctor's coat. "I'm really glad you were with me when it happened," she admitted without looking back at him. "Out of everyone here...I'm glad it was you."

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demonboyking
2009-06-19 12:41 am UTC (link)

Sam lay on his side, his injured shoulder pointing up at the sky above. He had his head propped up on his hand as he watched Shannon in the moonlight. It was weird not having to worry about her seeing him looking at her. He'd tried so hard not to over the last couple of days that being able to now and knowing that she wouldn't think he was a creep for doing it took a little getting used to.

He wished he didn't recognize the tone of her voice. He wished he hadn't heard it when he was interviewing victims for the job. Death changed people, whether it was someone close to you or just something that happened within physical proximity. Mentally he recited the stages of grief to himself. Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance. He wondered which one Shannon was on. He wondered if he'd somehow bypassed denial and had jumped ahead to Anger or Depression. Bargaining was something he knew better than to screw with.

He swallowed and furrowed his brow, glancing upwards. As much as he'd enjoyed watching her a moment ago he found it hard to do so now. Not when he knew he'd have to tell her about Anders. He felt guilty for not having gone back and taken care of him already. Still, the sight of Dean and Andy alive if not entirely well, and tending to Shannon's stitches, had managed to push thoughts of the charred corpse out of his mind until it had been too late to make his way across town to the church.

He felt her eyes on him and looked down at her. He wanted to say something comforting, tell her that Bob and Anders were in a better place. Not that it would be difficult to imagine. But it still felt like he'd be lying in someway and he refused to do that again to someone he cared about. "I'm sorry," he said, not really knowing if he was sorry for her not getting the chance to meet Bob, or for not being able to make her feel better, or for the fact that they were there at all.

She looked away and he studied her face as she spoke. He nodded, glad for a moment that she wasn't looking at him as emotion played across his face. "I'm glad it was you too," he said, softly. "And I'm glad you're okay."

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ballerinadreams
2009-06-19 01:20 am UTC (link)

Contrary to what Shannon thought maybe she should feel, she wasn't quite sure whether she loved or hated that Sam was looking at her. She could feel more than see him watching her and it was nice that he finally saw her, she thought, but there was a small part of her that wished for a moment that he wouldn't look. That he wouldn't potentially see all the things in her eyes that she didn't want to say. About him, about them (if there was a "them"); about the things that had happened today. She found herself wondering if Sam had spent enough time with her yet to be able to read her expressions even if she didn't want him to. Secretly, she couldn't decide whether she hoped he could or couldn't. To her, Sam was still mostly an enigma. And whatever they were now, still buddies or something more, was something even more enigmatic, still.

There was something almost comforting about the fact that Shannon had bypassed the steps of grief, heading straight to acceptance. It wasn't like Boone. Yes, she was sad that there were so many people hurt and that the one person who had died was the one person she'd been meaning to meet and hadn't ever managed to find the time to do so. But, there was no point in denying it - it happened. She supposed, she guessed, that she'd actually gone through denial in the journal when L had pointed out to her that she was talking about Bob. She'd been angry that someone had died when Remy had pointed it out to her. Bargaining was a waste of time because the only person she could think to bargain with was the Insider and she hoped that that son of a bitch rotted in the worst depth of Hell there was; there was no way she was going to waste time and energy trying to bargain with that sick fuck. Depression, she thought, was dependent on actually knowing someone. If Dean, for example, or Sam; Jack or Ianto, or the Doctor or Jay had been the one to die, Shannon would've been gutted. She liked to maintain the idea that Domeki was in another cell underground or something and had managed to survive unscathed. The idea that he was out there hurting or worse didn't compute because she didn't want it to.

But, for what it was worth, and for better or worse, Shannon was already accepting what had happened. It was done and over and there was nothing anyone could do to change it. She wondered if Bob was the only casualty or if there were more and no one had been able to take notice because of the confusion...or the fact that she assumed the Doctor and Sam weren't the only ones who didn't have their journals. Sam's was still in the museum somewhere and the Doctor's was under Shannon's head in one of the pockets of his coat. In fact, she wondered if there was any way for them to ever really find out. Especially if there were new people; no one would even know to look for them, she thought with a pang of guilt and sadness.

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ballerinadreams
2009-06-19 01:20 am UTC (link)

Sam's eyes were downcast as he apologized and for what, Shannon didn't know. She looked back at him and gave him a small shrug even if she wasn't entirely sure he would see it. There wasn't anything for him to be sorry for. He hadn't made this happen and there sure as hell wasn't any way that he could've stopped it. He couldn't help the way she felt and he couldn't help that people had died. "Don't be," she finally said in a low, quiet voice.

Shannon looked back at him when he said that he was glad it was her, too, and that she was okay. Her eyes searched his for a moment in the darkness and then she gave him a weak smile. "You know I thought you..." she tried to say again, much the way she'd tried before kissing him at the museum. "When I saw you under there, I thought that was it," she whispered, furrowing her brow and closing her eyes. Her throat ached against a sob she refused to allow to be heard. No. Not right now and not ever. Sam was alive and he was right there beside her. There was no point in mourning the loss if it hadn't occurred. "I thought I'd never see you again," she admitted, forcing herself to open her eyes and meet his. She didn't bother to hide the raw emotion on her face because it was nothing Sam hadn't already seen, she thought. Or at least, something close to it on that fourth night. "I thought that was another goodbye I'd never get to say." With that said, she closed her eyes again for a short moment as she lolled her head again to look straight up at the sky when they opened once more.

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