xp_logs | (no subject)

Staring directly ahead, Sarah sits on the arm of the couch, throwing darts at the dartboard. She doesn't want to talk to anybody, just sit here in the darkened rec room and think in the relative quiet.

Paige was never very good at taking no for an answer. It was why she was where she was, whether one saw at as good or bad, uncertain. A prime example of her attitude was the fact that she was standing in the doorway to the rec room, watching Sarah calmly as if waiting for something.

Sarah throws her last dart at the board, so hard that it bounces off, and lands on the floor below. Getting up to retrieve the darts, she glances over her shoulder. "How'd I know you were gonna show up?"

"Roomy law or something, I'm sure. That, or your have some third eye thing going and we must never speak of this again lest those like John attempt to take you to Vegas," Paige answers from the door, still leaning against the frame.

Sarah looks vaguely amused for a moment, and goes back to her perch on the couch. "I've been having a bad couple of days," she says calmly.

"The hurricane has been hard on us all." Paige tilts her head slightly to the side, letting her hair form a protective curtain over one side of her face before continuing. "However, I don't believe this is what you're speaking of."

"The hurricane's the least of my worries," Sarah says, throwing a dart at the board, "It got me out of the mansion."

"It's made you feel useful," she states. "It's made us all feel useful."

"Yeah." She throws a few more darts, not saying anything for a few minutes. "Maybe I should stop coming home. That's always when it happens. I come back to... 'Oh, while you weren't looking, somebody died.' Or in this case, had fucking neurosergery and is still in a fucking coma." She throws another dart at the board, hard.

Venturing into the room, Paige sits herself on the arm of one of the chairs, arms crossed. "All right, miss. Back up. Neurosurgery? Coma?"

Moving the last dart back and forth from one hand to the other, Sarah looks up at Paige. "You ever wonder why Ms. Braddock was so uptight the last week or two? 'Cause she was fucking counting down the days before she had surgery. To get her sight back."

Suddenly glad she was sitting, Paige was motionless for a long moment, lost in thought. She finally takes a deep breath, focusing back on her companion. All she can think of to say at that moment was, "Oh."

"She didn't tell anybody, apparently." She throws the last dart at the board, but it's off course and lands in the wall. "And what tops this whole fucking thing off, is that she still isn't awake. She's in a coma still, and they aren't sure when she'll fucking wake up."

"Oh, God. Sarah, I'm sorry. I know the words seem so empty, but I'm sorry," Paige says quietly. "She means a lot to you, doesn't she?"

"I wouldn't know why," Sarah says quietly, "She's been nothing but a huge pain in the ass since I've been here. Captain of the 'Let's make Sarah feel human again!' squad." She stares down at the floor for a while. "It kinda hits a little to close to home... this whole situation."

Nodding, Paige scoots over to rest her hand on Sarah's shoulder, a feather touch. "I know. And this is going to sound especially silly, coming from me of all people and being said to you, but I think we've got to have a little faith in Braddock. She's a tough woman, a regular role model when she's not being infuriating."

Sarah moves away, slowly. "She didn't sound very confident going into this."

Paige places her hands back into her lap, accepting. "Everyone is allowed to have a fear. I suppose she knew if that this surgery didn't work out, she'd never get her sight back, such a hard thing to live with."

"Somehow, I don't think that's it."