knowthyexits | (no subject)

When it comes to the distraction of a mind, there is nothing like being told 'you're going to die' that makes a person rethink their life. Sarah knows that unlike Skynet, unlike the apocalypse, she doesn't have an exact date. She has time. How much time, she has no idea, but she has some time.

It's why she's gone around to three people who she knows that won't feel out of place in a dangerous situation and told them curtly that it's time to go before grabbing her shotgun and heading in the direction of the dinosaurs.

Whether or not they follow her is up to them.

She's done her duty and now she allows her mind to turn back to the diagnosis and George's words and the secure knowledge that she is going to get very sick and then she is going to die. She tries not to think about how she had known that was a possibility. Here, as a reality, it's so much worse.

She doesn't talk to any of them as she walks with purpose towards the dinosaurs, highly intending to shoot something, to kill something, to take her hands and pry something until it breaks because if she can't fight this disease within her, she has to fight something.

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Sarah casts a wary eye back over Columbus and Katniss warily, not wanting them to get an earful of this conversation. She stares Cal down, not sure what he's expecting her to say in response to that. "I need to fight something. I need to fight something tangible, with a presence, something that I can visibly see. I just need to fight."

I let go of her arm. What else could I do? I let her go, and I frowned. Unfortunately, I was pissed off so much of the time, it probably didn't register as anything unusual.

"Okay," I finally said, giving in. If anybody understood her reasoning, it was me. That didn't mean I had to be comfortable with the cause of it, though. "But when we get back, we're having a talk, you and me."

"Okay," she agrees, sounding almost hollow and distant. She knows that she has to do it, but a part of her wants to be able to run from this. She wants a chance to start again, but there are boundaries to these shores and she works a steady shift with people she feels responsible for. "Cal," Sarah says, before they can get back on the path.

She grabs at his forearm and pulls him close, wrapping her arms around him tightly. She's smaller than he is, but she's got a steel grip when she wants it. And now, she hugs him and presses her forehead to his shoulder, holding on because he's what she's got here.

"I'm lucky to have a boy like you in my life." He's older than a boy, but in her eyes right now, that's all she sees.

Physical affection was far from my forte. My own mother would have rather spit on me than hug me, and while Niko had done a commendable job of raising me on his own, he wasn't exactly handsy, either. Even so, after a moment of awkwardness, I lifted a hand to cradle the back of Sarah's head and sighed.

Did I mention that this was really fucking bad? Because it was seeming worse by the fucking minute.

"I'm almost 22, mom," I replied, going for levity.

"Well, I guess I was thirteen when I had you," is her instant retort, easing away from him and letting her hand linger at his shoulder for a singular moment, squeezing there harder than strictly necessary to keep her grounded to something. She's already dreading the talk they're going to have, but it needs to happen. If only so she has someone who can protect John if she's gone.