knowthyexits | (no subject)

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neil

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Sarah's shift hasn't been anything out of the ordinary. She's kept to her tables and there are slow periods just like any other day. She notices in the post-dinner rush that her pulse is racing, but she figures it has to do with the high heat of the kitchen and the pace from the hurrying she's just done. It's not unusual to happen to her. What is unusual is that she starts having trouble catching her breath.

She pulls up a stool, getting a water for herself and breathing in deeply. It's reminiscent of some of the milder panic attacks she's had in her time -- when John's life was on the line, when she didn't know if their safety had been compromised -- but the only battle she faces now is getting from session to session. She's nearing completion and had stupidly thought that the side effects would fade.

She's fairly sure she spoke too soon.

"Neil," she summons him quietly, when the dizziness hits again. "Neil, I need you to do me a big favor. Can you do that?"

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I've been keeping an eye on her, all night. She gets so fuckin' pissed off if I hover, so I've waited... watched. At first, she just looks a little off, but eventually, I can tell she's really struggling, but I wait. She's gotten so good at covering, sometimes it's tough to tell how bad off she really is.

When she calls, I head over, trying not to look worried, or that I've even noticed there's anything off about her.

"Yeah, sure. What's up?"

"I need you to take me to the clinic," she requests under her breath, taking off her apron and focuses on folding it without her hands shaking. She manages, but it takes her much longer than it normally would. "Or find someone to take me. They may have to carry me the last while."

"Jesus, Sarah. Yeah, okay," I say, taking the apron from her and tossing it carelessly on the bar.

"We'll go to my place, then take the ATV. It'll be faster."

"I was trying to fold that for you," is her slightly weak and amused response, though she follows after Neil, trusting in his judgment. She's glad for the ATV suggestion, though, because the world is beginning to tilt. "I don't know what it is, I was feeling fine at the beginning of the shift and everything started seeming..." She shakes her head, at a loss for the right word.

"Fuck the apron. Come on," I say, slipping an arm around her and steering her toward the door.

Along the way, I make sure to catch the eye of the person working in the kitchen, so they'll know we're gone.

Sarah follows along, reaching out to grab onto Neil's hand tightly when she feels like she's going to falter. It's not that she wants the comfort or the help -- she's more worried about what people are going to see. Even after all this time, she's concerned about her reputation, most of all.

She needs to be seen as strong. More than anything, that's what she needs.

"It's not far," I remind her, and I know she's gonna insist on supporting as much of her own weight as she can. Because she's stubborn as hell. It's one of the things I like about her, but it's also really fuckin' frustrating, at times like this.

"I'll be fine, I just need to get to Rory," she says, murmuring the 'you'll be fine' over and over again to herself. It's nothing like the early days. She's barely nauseous and she's completely lost as to what it actually could be. "Thank you, Neil," she adds, with some trouble. "You didn't have to do this."

"Shut up. I know I didn't have to," I mutter, 'cause she oughta know by now that I actually give a shit. That's why I'm taking her.

Plus, I'm not like, a complete asshole.

She wonders what she's done to earn the presence of so many complicated men in her life. They're all wonderful for her (and to her), but they're all so different. Neil fits right into that category with the rest. "I thought -- I thought that I was done with this," she mutters, frustrated.

"You don't know what's goin' on. It might not be a big deal," I point out. Maybe she just did too much, too fast. Maybe it's something with an easy fix.

Or maybe it's not. I'm not stupid enough that I don't realize how bad this could be. But I also know there's no point freaking out, just yet. Right now, what I care about is gettin' her to the clinic.

Sarah's conditioned herself to think that nothing can be a big deal if she's still breathing. If she's alive, she hasn't yet lost the battle, which means that she's going to fight it to the last. "At this rate, Neil, I should really stop working for you as much as I do. I feel like I keep leaving you in the lurch."

"You're not leavin' me in the fuckin' lurch. And you're not workin' for me, anyway. It's not like you're gettin' paid," I point out, and thankfully, the Tree isn't far at all, from here.

"If you wanna take time off, do it. I'll work it out."

It's not that she wants to, but she's beginning to think she might need to. After all, it's not like her body is treating her well these days. It's almost as if she needs to pay attention before it's too late -- like this is a sign that she ought to respect. "I like working for you," she says, gripping the seat of the ATV. "I like thinking that you're my boss, but my friend. It's a line of command. I understand that."

"I like you workin' for me, too. And not just 'cause you're pretty much my best waitress," I say, climbing on and making sure she's settled before I start the engine.

Being solar powered, it's actually surprisingly quite, and it's always been a relatively smooth ride, which I guess is a good thing right now.

"Whatever time you take off, you know you can always come back."

She scoffs at that, considering that part of the reason she's so good at her job is her willingness to shut out all outside factors. "I'm good at my job because I don't have a life," she points out, which is why she tries to be there as often as she can, for lunch, dinner, or whatever's going on.

She closes her eyes tightly, trying to ignore the light-headed sensation that bodes poorly. "Stop the vehicle, Neil," she pleads, feeling nauseous.

Shit.

"Okay, okay," I say, pulling over to the side of the path and putting on the breaks as gently as I can, while still hurrying the fuck up about it.

"I won't be long," she promises, but it's a mad dash to get to a spot with vaguely remote privacy, keeping her food down just long enough to head around the back. She returns to Neil fives minutes later, a pale look to her face and a rueful curve to her lips. "I think that's everything I've had lately. I'm ready to go."

"Gross," I say, teasing her just as much as I dare to, and waiting for her to slide back into her seat before I take off again.

I want to get there as fast as I can. If she gets worse, suddenly, I don't know what the fuck I'm supposed to do for her, and the idea of that is scarier than I'd thought it would be.

"I hear that a lot," she jokes in turn, grateful that every moment brings her closer to the clinic. "You don't have to wait for me once we get there," she promises. "Rory will take good care of me, he always does." She's a little scared that she doesn't know what's wrong, but dealing with this stuff on her own has become something of a forte.

"I'm not gonna just fuckin' leave you," I say, even though I'll be no help. Even though I know Rory's the type that'll do whatever he can to make sure she's okay. Letting her out at the door and driving off just feels wrong.

"Neil," she promises, as soft and swift as she can. "Neil, I'm going to be fine as soon as I get inside." In fact, she's going to focus on that now: one foot in front of the other, making her way slow but sure inside. "You can come if you want," she offers, over her shoulder. "It just won't be very fascinating."

Rolling my eyes, I hop off the ATV and follow her, slipping ahead just so I can open the door for her.

"I was expectin' it to be a fuckin' laugh riot," I roll my eyes, "Look, I'll at least get you through the fuckin' door, then I'll quit hovering."

"I'm just not used to being the one on this side of the hovering," she admitted, raising a brow as she shakes her head. "Usually, it's me who can't keep her nose out of my family's business." Or their associates, since she's not sure she'll ever want to call Cameron 'family'.

"I'm not stickin' my nose in, I'm just openin' doors," I remind her with a smirk, walking down the hall toward the clinic with her, and then, just as I promised, opening the door to let her in.

"You're still here," she pointed out, which was more than she could say about other people in her life. She managed a smile, as best as she could. "Thank you, Neil, for getting me here." She wrapped an arm around her stomach to try and keep the nausea back, just until they got inside to talk to Rory.

"No problem," I say with a shrug, and when we step through the clinic doors, I hang back, letting her talk to Rory on her own.

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