upstairs, room 1701D - IMDB flu

[visible_sariel]

Sariel did go directly upstairs after talking to Captain Kirk. Yes, the staircase did wobble a little underfoot and yes, she did have to pause once or twice to muffle a sneeze, but up she went. She'd told a superior officer that she was going, she wouldn't have used the door back to her universe even if it was there and besides, she really did feel horrible.

the first thing she does, once she's closed the door, is reach for the spare quilt folded on the seat of her desk chair. Scottish winters are cold when you're a child of the tropics, doubly so when you've got a fever. Dazedly, she thinks of thanking Bar, or the landlord, or the waitrats... someone, certainly, for that quilt once she isn't ill. That leaves her wondering why her landlord's been in her apartment without telling her first, but then she has to stifle a sneeze, then another, and things start to get rather confused.

She's in Atlanta.

She's in deep space.

she's in Castries.

she's in Milliways.

Achoo!

In short order or at least, short order for the congested and slightly dizzy, she's curled up on the bed. She's fully clothed and be-quilted besides, muffling the more-than-occasional sniffle and shivering despite the layers of warm fabric covering her. She's in Atlanta-Scotland-Saint Lucia-Milliways-crew quarters, and her name is Sariel-Julie-Winnie-Vanessa. Her head throbs.

The comforter she's wrapped in is patterned with tiny multicolored stars.

the one beneath her shows a tracery of leafy vines.

Her head spins.

Comments

[visible_sariel]

"I don't know," Julie - or maybe it's Sariel - answers almost at once. "I really don't know."

Beat. Two. "He shouldn't be like this in the first place," Julie says, voice threaded through with earnestness and anguish. Her accent's still American, but that quiet intensity can't be so easily assigned. It makes it

University of Atlanta

that little bit harder

it's all about Lucian pride

to tell one woman from the other. "I didn't stop it - I'm an accessory. I did this."

[wheatencrown]

"You want to fix it though, my child and that is what matters. You must get healthy though before you can do anything."

The hug grows tighter, Demeter hates seeing such pain and not being able to do more than just be there.

[visible_sariel]

"Of course I do," Julie says, again almost at once. That's not indignation in her tone; it's certainty. The effect is probably somewhat ruined by the fit of coughing that seizes her in the next breath, though. At least she turns her head away? No getting germs on friendly goddesses.

"Yes, ma'am," is the eventual reply, still small and slightly hoarse. Sariel--maybe Julie, but more likely Sariel this time--sounds bone tired and still troubled, but she doesn't argue with Demeter. Not that she would, in her right mind but even if she might. Well. She can't.

And as for being there--well. Sometimes just being there

"Just cry, Sariel."

makes a difference.

[wheatencrown]

Demeter rocks her gently and kisses her hot forehead,

"Shh, my child, all will be well."

[visible_sariel]

And all manner of things shall be--

"I hope so," says a tiny, uncertain voice. Sariel--or is it Julie, or is it someone else--leans into Demeter as she's rocked, eyes closing as her head lowers back to the goddess's shoulder.

Eventually, blurrily, "Is it still light, Dr. Corey?"

[wheatencrown]

"Just barely, my dear. Its time for you to sleep and heal."

[visible_sariel]

Pause. A bit longer. "Good," Sariel--or maybe Julie--says seriously. Surprisingly seriously, one might even say. "I'm in trouble if they--" sniff. "If they--" Excuse the cough-and-sniffle combination that renders her speechless for a second here.

"Demeter?" That, at least, is undeniably Sariel's own voice, properly-accented, small even for her, and scared. "I don't think I can be alone tonight."

[wheatencrown]

"I wasn't planning on leaving you, Sariel."

Again she pulls her close and smooths her hair, for no one should be alone with a fever and an uncertainty of who they are.

[visible_sariel]

The look that crosses Sariel's face at Demeter's answer is one of pure relief. An almost undue amount of relief, one could even think. Of course, if they knew the girl wearing it, they might

clickclick click clickclickclick click

not think the expression so undue after all. "Thank you," Sariel says simply, and maybe a little shakily. "Thank you very much."

And all manner of things shall be--

[wheatencrown]

"Shh, you're welcome."

Demeter won't leave her, she will hold her and rock her and make her better through the long and strange night.

[visible_sariel]

Sariel is very, very glad of that fact, no matter who she thinks she is from second to second. Admittedly the reality might confuse her a little, when there's enough Julie in her thoughts to make her wonder just how Dr. Corey got the keys to her apartment, but even then, she's far from minding the company.

Far as in lightyears.

Sariel doesn't say that much; Sariel rarely does. She leans, to be sure, nestles beneath quilts and blankets, dreams.

Julie dreams of wailing sirens and red lights, color seeping into color as a young man lies bleeding. Vanessa dreams that her world is exploding, once, twice. Maybe more. Winnie dreams she's half raising a child who's not her own, dreams of watching her family's third generation flourish while the first fades black to grey in a slow breath.

Sariel dreams of white sand and groves of banana plants, of a tiny girl with inherited curls, of familiar faces and starfields and intangible wings, of blades with jagged edges and - clickclick clickclick click clickclickclick - half-remembered scenes.

At least once, Sariel's dreams become a nightmare.

She'll very likely be terribly embarrassed once she's in her right mind again, but object to Demeter being there?

Never in life. Not even close.

And eventually, tel God thankya for small mercies, Sariel does sleep peacefully. How long is debatable, but at least it's a start.