Sarah suspected the smell didn't help matters. After baking all day beneath the bright October sky, the air had acquired the unmistakable odor of sweat and sun-warmed plastic. The stench made her want to throw up. Whoever had been sitting next to her must have agreed because she could hear him retching into a bucket on the other side of the flimsy wall.
A volunteer wandered outside to make sure he was okay. In the meantime, thirty more patients nursed their injuries while attempting to draw comfort from their families. Sarah had to fight not to join them; whenever she checked her phone, she half expected to see a message from her grandmother until she remembered this wasn't her cell. The reminder didn't do much for her mood; she really didn't want to think about what her host was getting up to in a similar building back in Boston. She couldn't help it, though. There wasn't anything to do besides fret and fixate on the clock.
Right now, the digital hands were sitting at '7:53 p.m.' Sarah had been waiting in this vinyl hell for almost three whole hours. If they'd gone to the E.R. that might have been par for the course; however, the delay gained greater significance when she knew Amanda had been seen immediately. At least, no one had come out to ask her about the infiltrator's 'tape worm problem,' yet. That was the last thing they'd need. It shouldn't be an issue, given the location of her wound, but a lot could go wrong in the time since they'd put her ex under.
Sarah tried not to let the uncertainty stress her out. She was only moderately successful. The qualifier also became a bit questionable once Amanda's physician waltzed past the receptionist so he could speak to her in person. "Miss," the man greeted her before visibly blanking on her name. "I... hmm. I don't believe we've ever been properly introduced."
Sarah refused to sweat, lest he realize she preferred to keep it that way. "Is a minor lapse in etiquette really that important, right now? Don't we have more important things to discuss? When I brought my partner in there was more blood in the car than the rest of her body combined. How is she doing? Is she...?"
The doctor let himself be side-tracked. "She's recovering," he informed her, his words stumbling over her own. "The surgery proceeded as cleanly as could be expected, but she went into shock prior to the operation. I'd like to keep her under observation for a week or two for safety's sake." He waved at the surrounding crowd. "Unfortunately, that's not an option as you can plainly see. The best we can manage with our current level of occupancy is to put her up in the General Ward for the next couple of days. Afterwards, she'll have to recuperate at home. Will that be a problem for either of you, or...?"
He trailed off. Sarah was more than happy to fill the silence. "No, that's very doable. I can't tell you how grateful I am to hear that she's going to be alright. Is she healthy enough to receive visitors? Can I go and see her this evening?"
The solemnity of her concern washed over the harried physician. When combined with the frantic beeping of his phone, it didn't take long for him to revert to his usual spiel. "That's fine," he told her, his eyes pulled towards the flashing alert. "You'll... uh... need to let the nurse clean up first, but the anesthesia should have worn off by now. There will also be a packet detailing your partner's post-op care. It'll all be explained in the print-out by her bed. I... something's come up. If you would excuse me?" The doctor walked off without waiting for a reply. The only reason he didn't run was because it was likely to incite a panic.
Sarah watched him go with an air of grim anxiety. Then, after he'd left and was heading towards the edge of the encampment, she let her expression fall slack. With a bit of luck, the que would stay packed, and they could avoid any awkward questions. It wasn't guaranteed - Sarah might have to get creative with their story, but it was still potentially in the cards.
She took a deep breath. Call it thirty minutes until the staff got distracted by the next ongoing crisis. Once Sarah was sure she wouldn't get dragged into a conversation, she'd slip into Amanda's room and go over their options with her ex. Maybe even delete a few files on their way out the door. It'd depend on what the warspawn had been forced to reveal during her surgery.
Sarah's fingers tightened around her phone's protective case. Standard procedure was for the police to investigate every negligent discharge that had been treated by a professional. Of course, what that meant in a town this small was open to interpretation. There was a good chance they only had a single officer on duty to handle the whole department. If he was busy with the seed - or had gotten injured earlier in the week - it'd be easy to slip through the cracks.
'Just like Amelia,' Sarah sneered, recalling the issues with her grandmother's caregiver. 'I swear, you'd think somebody would check on the woman when they know she can barely walk, but nooo - apparently, that's the nurse's job. It sure is a shame that she's missing-in-fucking-action.'
A wave of cold anger broke across her back like the headwaters of bleak Cocytus. Between Maria's initial absence and the negligence of her replacement, Sarah had half a mind to go pay their employer a visit. What she'd do when she got there, she couldn't say, but she knew it'd be unpleasant all around.
'How about it? You up for raising a little hell?'
Pallsburg didn't reply. Ever since they'd handed her girlfriend over to the paramedics, she'd been hovering on the edge of consciousness, exhausted by her work with their core. Sarah figured it was about par for the course. The mental burden caused by enduring such desperate focus wasn't something that could be casually shrugged off. Not by anyone with a working sense of empathy, at any rate.
Sarah glanced down at her phone again. Her thumb was hovering above the simulated number pad, right next to the 'six' key. She cursed her own hard-won compassion and started typing in her grandmother's area code. It was only when the line began to ring that she recalled the need for a cover.
"...Hello?" Amelia greeted her before she could settle on a story. "This isn't another warning about my car's warranty, is it?"
The dry complaint was a little too fraught to come off as completely sincere. For a second, Sarah wondered whether Amelia had been informed of her granddaughter's injury or if it was her disappearance that was straining the woman's temper. Either way, the moment quickly passed, and Sarah's lips began to move on their own. "Er... no ma'am. This is Jenny Mitchels with Boston Out-Patient Services. I'm calling you today in order to touch base regarding your living situation. You see, there's a new program we're trialing for various at-risk seniors, and your name came up in the algorithm."
Amelia wasn't reassured by the cavalcade of medical buzzwords. "You mean because of my broken wrist?" she grumbled irritably.
Sarah smiled at the old woman's suspicion. "No, I have you down here as suffering from an injury to your hip."
"Right." The correct answer didn't do much to assuage Amelia's skepticism. Unlike before, though, it wasn't because she thought this was a scam; instead, it was simply because she was dissatisfied with the quality of her care. "I suppose you want me to fill out a survey?"
Sarah took a bit of joy in refuting her prediction. "That won't be necessary, ma'am. A verbal confirmation of your status will be fine."
"Then I can assure you that my health's just as terrible as the last time I spoke to the doctor."
"Excuse me?" Sarah replied, a bit dumbfounded by the news.
Amelia wasn't inclined to let her get away with such a guileless reaction. "Oh, don't give me that nescient confusion. I'm sure the sordid details are all there in a spreadsheet on your monitor. What does the screen say? A 'one hundred and twenty percent increased risk of stroke?' The fact that there's a one-in-three chance I'll be a corpse within the next twelve months?"
Sarah stared at the tent's ceiling with a vague ringing in her ears. Her smile died a coward's death as she swallowed around the lump in her throat. "I... I'm afraid that sort of information isn't provided to us."
"Well, maybe it should be," Amelia muttered begrudgingly. "If it was, then perhaps it'd mean something when I tell you that I was promised there'd be a nurse here for the duration of my recovery. What the hell am I supposed to do now if I pass out on the couch?"
"I don't know," Sarah confessed, her tongue stuck on autopilot. "Is there anyone you can reach out to for help or...?"
Amelia cut in before she could finish the question. "Whether I can or can't isn't the issue here. It's not my family's job to wipe my ass and chauffeur me around town: it's the people being paid by my Medicare premium. They've certainly taken a big enough bite out of my savings to justify it."
The phone line crackled as her grandmother huffed in dismay. Sarah herself wasn't quite so easy going and had to take a second to choke back her bile. "Believe me when I say that you are completely correct. I don't know what I can do for you at this time, but I will elevate your concerns to the highest level available to me."
"Pah, I'm sure those assholes will refile them right into the wastepaper bin. You're better off saving your breath."
"No," Sarah insisted stubbornly. "That isn't an option. I'd do it right now, except..."
"You're at work," Amelia finished in an understanding tone. "I imagine you have a quota to fill or your boss will be all over your ass."
Sarah closed her eyes, so she wouldn't have to picture Huffman's hands around her waist. Appeasing that randy bastard wasn't why she had to stay away. Instead, it was the ward of all things - the trap she'd left in the bungalow's wall. Without her host, she no longer had the right mana signature to disable the spell's arming switch. If she tried to approach the threshold anyway, it'd probably pop her head off at the neck.
'Just like Barkley's mines,' Sarah concluded bitterly. While it was technically a different technique, the formation was still beholden to the same general principles. That is to say, if you wanted to play with explosives, then it was imperative you keep your finger on the trigger or else the bomb squad would have to come clean up your mess. Sarah had arguably reached the 'mess' portion of that equation. The [Crumbling Wall Technique] may have been too stable to cook off like a [Gatian Knot], but its reliability wasn't much comfort when it was preventing her from helping her grandmother.
"Is there anything I can do for you to improve your experience with our service?" Sarah asked her dully.
Amelia sighed, the exhalation drawn out and frustrated. "You personally, or your company as a whole?"
"Either? Both? I don't see the point in drawing a distinction between the two." Not when Sarah's identity was defined by its malleability. It'd be like asking, 'Who beat up the Joker: Bruce Wayne or Batman?' When the only difference was which suit he was wearing, that wasn't a question worth pondering.
In this case, her superhuman alter ego would be whichever executive was in charge of her grandmother's coverage. If all she needed to do was guarantee a box got checked, there'd be boots on the ground tomorrow. Of course, it wasn't as simple as that, given Jenny's ongoing absence; however, it still needed to be said: authority wasn't an issue.
No, the issue was people and their ability to convince themselves the sky was falling. Sarah would have blamed the news coverage, except she knew the media was correct. It was just inconvenient. A problem. Amelia's stubborn independent streak didn't exactly help matters.
"I appreciate the thought, but I'm not interested in watching you beat your head against a wall. Should you discover a way to address my concerns, I'll be all ears. Otherwise, please don't call me again."
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The woman hung up without waiting for a reply. Sarah almost couldn't believe it. Then, after a couple moments, the dial tone kicked in, and the truth became impossible to deny. "...Son of a bitch. How do you even respond to that?"
"Respond to what?" Raul asked as he appeared behind her elbow.
Sarah jerked around in a full-body flinch. Her hand started going for a weapon before she even recognized his voice. It was a good thing she wasn't armed because she probably would have hosed the room down if she still had her Uzi with her. As it was, she had to throttle back her core to make sure she didn't eject a couple motes of 'Water' mana straight through his curious face.
"What the actual fuck?!" Sarah hissed, her panic waking Pallsburg from her nap. "Where the hell did you come from?!"
"Oh, you know, around." Raul waved his hand towards the farm with an airy disregard. "I don't know why you're surprised. I was the one who suggested you bring your partner here in the first place."
Sarah scoffed at his explanation. "Yeah, well, you were also the guy getting bitched out by Jessica while I bundled Amanda into the car. What? Did your mother cut you loose from her apron strings when I wasn't looking, or has this entire misadventure turned into a family affair?"
She kept half an eye on the room as Raul scowled at her rejoinder. All in all, he seemed too annoyed by the embarrassing accusation to linger on the weight of her interrogative. Sarah allowed him to languish in his ignorance. If he was dumb enough to show up alone, then there was no reason to correct his mistake.
"Fuck you," Raul spat, his brow twitching irritably. "I'm trying to be considerate here, and you're acting like I shot her myself."
A mixture of exasperation and disgust seeped into Sarah's expression. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"You know," Raul explained with a nod towards their unwilling audience. "Building bridges? Being a better person?" He scowled at Sarah's bemused frown and switched over to their internal relay.
The admission caught the paranoid bee in her bonnet and crushed its black and yellow body. Sarah blinked at the awkward flush creeping up Raul's neck before slowly shaking her head. "Unbelievable. I don't know if your parents did the best job raising you or the worst."
Raul took a seat on the plastic lawn chair the volunteers had provided for visitors. "How about we ignore that question entirely and talk about literally anything else?"
Sarah's mind was still stuck on her own parental issues, so she decided to lead with that.
A bitter grimace flit across Raul's face.
Raul shrugged.
Sarah raised an eyebrow at his casual apathy.
Sarah mentally groaned.
Sarah closed her eyes and kept running the numbers on how much mana she'd need to heal everyone important in her life.
Raul wasn't bothered by the silence.
He laughed at the thought - at the idea that there'd be enough room to fit.
The harried warspawn rolled her eyes.
Raul chuckled.
There were too many emotions writhing through Sarah for her to isolate any one in particular. Most of them felt bad, though. Like she was gargling a tumbler of battery acid, and it was stripping away the patina she relied upon to stomach the day. "Hey. I never asked. What's your full name?"
Raul gave her an odd look at the question. "Eh? The hell does that matter?"
"Please," Sarah groused. "Just humor me. Call it a matter of respect."
"No, that's weird. Besides, I'd rather be known as myself than for a connection to the rest of my family. Raul alone is fine. Let's just leave it at that."
Sarah clicked her tongue. It figured that the little shit would make this as hard as possible. She'd complain, but it'd be hypocritical, considering who she was here to see. The digits of the clock ticked over to '8:17 p.m.' It was about time she checked on the other pain in her ass before Raul spilled so much of his backstory that he convinced himself they were friends. She rolled forward onto her feet.
"Where are you...?"
Sarah ignored Raul's truncated exclamation and headed for the door. According to a small whiteboard that was propped up on the receptionist's desk, the recovery ward was outside and three rows north of the road. From there, each tent was then separated between 'minor' and 'moderate' injuries with the latter further divided into separate bunks for men and women.
Amanda was currently housed in a double that was missing its second occupant. Whether that was a recent occurrence or not was hard to say. There wasn't much blood on the bedding, though, so Sarah figured her roommate hadn't left the suite the hard way.
Raul caught up before Sarah could close the flap. She shot him an irked look when he attempted to follow her inside. "You mind?" she grumbled as she occluded the entrance with her host.
The parasite held up his hands in a classic 'don't shoot the messenger' pose. "I figured I'd be polite and offer the woman my condolences. If you need some space, though..."
A dry cough interrupted their budding argument. "No," Amanda rasped. "Why don't you stay. I seem to recall something about needing to 'give the world a chance.' If you're here to demonstrate your civility, then it's only fair I reciprocate."
Amanda scowled at her ex, the expression sapped by her pale grey smock. Combined with the blood loss, and the backlash of expending her core, she really did look like she'd just crawled out of the grave. There was a wan lethargy to her normally zealous disposition. When she glowered or glared it was with an air of performance that endeavored to stoke the fire of her ardor.
Sarah wasn't terribly impressed. She remembered Amanda's vehemence when they'd left the farmhouse, and this seemed like a shadow in comparison. "Suit yourself," she replied before reaching for the clipboard at the base of the bed. "It's not like you'll be able to do much to amuse yourself with... fourteen stitches in your side."
Amanda grimaced and motioned for Sarah to pass the packet over. "What's my prognosis?"
"You'll live," Sarah informed her, ignoring the insistent gesture. "Recovery time's about six weeks; however, you could be up and moving in three. The bullet missed the joint, so that's nice. They've also got you on stroke watch since your hip's a clotted mess."
"Any nerve damage?" Amanda asked her.
Sarah flipped back and forth through the printout. "It doesn't look like it. Why? You worried you'll end up like Rogers?"
"The thought may have crossed my mind."
"Mmm." Sarah tapped the clipboard against the metal railing surrounding Amanda's cot. She wondered if her ex was considering a similar solution using the Light. Sarah certainly had. She'd even weighed what it would cost to add the warspawn to her proverbial bill. "Are you going to ask me to visit the seed on your behalf, or should we just keep talking around the topic?"
Amanda shook her head, proving they were both on the same page. "No. I told you: I'm trying to be better than that. No more manipulation. If you want to help, then help. I'm not going to lie here and guilt trip you into it."
Sarah let the printout flutter back to the foot of the bed. "You know, sleight of hand of still works, even when you tell people how it's done. It doesn't stop being a dick move just because you warn me that it's coming ahead of time."
"Then close your eyes. You're good at ignoring the obvious when you set your mind to it." Amanda's gaze cut to Raul, who'd been quietly lingering by the door.
"You done?" he asked her before glancing between Sarah and her ex. "I didn't want to interrupt."
"It's fine," Amanda sighed and flapped her hand encouragingly. "Say your piece."
"Ah, I just wanted to offer my sympathies. It wasn't my intention for..." Raul stopped at Amanda's upraised finger.
"Not that piece," she corrected him. "The other one. The one where you offer to help Sarah with the seed."
Raul paused, his head cocked to the side. "...How did you know I was going to do that?"
"You're kind of predictable," she explained. "I'd call it a character flaw, except it's honestly a matter of perspective. You also don't need to worry. Sarah's going to say yes. You'll be a lot of help if she stumbles across another bear."
The phrase, 'because you're slower than her' went carefully unspoken. Sarah heard it, regardless. "You mind not making promises on my behalf?"
Amanda was a bit too inebriated to put up with any lip. "Am I wrong?"
"No, but it pisses me off."
"Tough shit," Amanda croaked. "They've got me on so much morphine that you're lucky I can perceive the flow of time. If you want me to be polite, it's going to have to wait until I'm not peeing into a pan. On that note, Raul? Kindly go for a walk?"
It took him a second to get it. "...Ah," he muttered. "Right. I'll just..." The parasite slipped through the flap, his cheeks marred by a pair of carmine dimples.
Amanda waited for him to reach the end of the row before spinning up her core. She took a deep breath as her mana swept through the parking lot. "Alright, he's gone. We should have a minute or two until he starts to wonder if you're wiping my ass."
Sarah was tempted to ask her why she'd invited the youth in if she was just going to kick him out again. There wasn't much point, though. Both of them knew he would have gotten curious, and there wasn't exactly time for an argument. "What did you need to say to me without him overhearing?"
"Nothing earthshattering. I just wanted a moment alone with Julie. Our arrangement is none of his business."
Sarah shifted uncomfortably beneath the trapped woman's skin. She could feel parts of Pallsburg's nervous system light up as her host shook off her languor. "I don't mind, but neither of us has the mana to make this a clean exit. Are you sure?"
Amanda ground her palm against her eye and then let her fingers slip through her hair. "Sarah? You're overthinking it. Just disconnect for a minute and take a fucking break."
Right, that... wasn't an unreasonable ask. In fact, it was borderline irenic. There shouldn't be a problem with her pulling up her proverbial stakes, especially if it was so the pair could enjoy a private moment alone.
Sarah still hesitated to do it. She blamed her instincts. There wasn't a single evolution during training that had emphasized the importance of letting go. If anything, it had been the opposite: oppression and deprivation had seen to that.
...She wanted to learn how, though. The idea of spending the rest of her life as Pallsburg was too abhorrent to seriously contemplate. Even the possibility that she had begun to replace her original host in her affections left her shivering with revulsion and dread.
"O-" She choked back the rising anxiety. "One second. Let me see what I can do."
It took her a good bit longer to actually work up the nerve. Once she started shuffling around her tendrils, though, it was easier to treat the procedure as just another normal adjustment. She decided to work backwards for simplicity's sake. In this case, that meant removing her feeds from the central nervous system before returning control of their limbs.
Pallsburg's degeneracy helped her during the latter half of the operation. Unlike her previous ride, Amanda's girlfriend was more than content to let her warden take her sweet time. Finally, after digging the last of her hooks out of the depraved woman's spine, there was a flash of chemical silence while the rush of biofeedback drained from her synapses.
She trailed off. Amanda could figure out the rest on her own. In the meantime, Sarah tried to settle her nerves as Pallsburg stumbled closer to the bed. A faint rumble echoed up from her chest. It sounded like the adults talking during the Peanut's holiday special. Amanda said something in reply. This comment was even harder to make out, but Sarah felt it less, so there wasn't as much of an impulse to mine the static for details. Instead, she merely focused on her upcoming sojourn and the extent to which she'd actually been compelled. Because hadn't she already considered this option before Amanda had stuck her thumb upon the scale? It was the obvious solution - the easiest fix. In some ways, she was almost glad it'd been dragged into the light since now they wouldn't have to waste time avoiding the ten-ton gorilla in the room.
Sarah slapped her crest into Pallsburg's shoulder for lack of a convenient hand. No matter how much sense the suggestion made she still couldn't gaslight herself out of her own irritation. Fuck that bitch for her presumption. Where the hell did she get off assuming Sarah would blithely help?
Raul's innocent comment suddenly echoed through the confines of her head. 'I shouldn't have to explain to you why it'd be immoral to leave her to rot.'
Tch. This was because they were friends, wasn't it? That's how she justified it to herself. Prick. Cunt. Sometimes it felt like their relationship was more trouble than it was worth.
Sarah dragged a tendril along Pallsburg's spine and felt Amanda's lips against her own. Her ex-girlfriend's tongue began probing the inside of her mouth. Sarah shivered at the sensation and felt her host grab Amanda by the gown.
'We have a duty to be better than our nature.' What even was that after they'd spent so long on Earth?