coppelganger | ic contact; MoM

(She hasn't seen Sarah in days. Or spoken to her. She's been getting thinner through December but now she looks exhausted in new ways and duller, like there's no spark or fight left in her. She's been cooking for Elliot without eating much herself, and it's like the final straw of neglect for her body to endure.

She knocks, pushing an envelope of photos taken from memories under the door - there's a note that just says "I'm sorry," and she's hugging her arms around her, rocking back on her feet. Sarissa lingers a few moments, and then has second thoughts about her second thoughts and double thinks and tears shit apart on her head before she sets down a wooden boat in front of Sarah's door, out of the way so it doesn't get trodden on, before starting a slow, unsteady shuffle down the hall. )

Edited 2016-12-19 01:32 (UTC)

[ Sarah isn't in a huge hurry to open the door. She's not sure who she's expecting, either. Sarissa, or even worse, Cosima or Alison here to yell at her about Sarissa. When she opens the door and sees—nobody, she's too surprised, at first, even to look down. When she does, and sees the envelope—"I'm sorry"—she knows immediately who must have left it, and she steps out into the hall without even registering the little boat next to the doorway.

She can see how bad off Sarissa is even from a distance, and her stomach immediately seems to curdle with guilt. She opens her mouth, hesitates, then pushes the nervousness away. ]

Oi, you weren't even gonna make sure some arsehole didn't swing by and steal this shit?

( Sarissa stops at the sound of Sarah's voice, though it takes her a second to turn, and she slouches against the wall to prop herself up. Her hair is drawn back in a messy bun, and she's got nothing vibrant on her. Nothing eye catching, or whimsical, or absurd. Greys and blacks, all over.

Somehow, she tries to offer a smile, but the corner of her mouth barely flickers. )

I don't think they'd be as valuable to anyone else. And the boat's meant to stay out.

( A shrug, keeping her distance, as her gaze drops. ) You've got 'em now. Waiting would've been creepy as.

So you were just going to leave this stuff here and not speak to me.

[ Sarah's not sure how she should feel. Angry, or hurt, or both. Was Sarissa planning on never talking to her again, or what? She's used to fighting with Felix, who's dramatic but whose drama blows over fairly quickly. They don't do this with the notes and the martyrdom, and she doesn't know how to deal with it. ]

I had those made and I wanted you to have them. Especially when your sister was acting like--

( She cuts herself off, and sighs softly. ) I reckoned it'd be like a comfort thing. Good memories to overlay shitty stuff.

( Her voice is terribly flat, like it hasn't been since that day. A pause,and she's studying a fixed point on the wall instead of looking at Sarah. )

I keep hurting you went I talk to you. It's-- my tongue feels like broken glass. Only good for cutting people open. I told Clara where I was. How to contact me. You and Cosima both made me say I'd stay, but I keep-- so I was staying somewhere so I'd stop ruining shit with us.

Edited 2016-12-19 05:06 (UTC)

[ Sarah has no idea what Sarissa's talking about, her sister and good memories, but she knows what that last part means. ]

You told Clara. So I guess the two of you are buddy buddy now, eh? No more pointing guns in her face?

( She takes it the same way she'd take a hit. Absorbs the impact, no backward stagger and no guard.

But there's no strike back in retaliation. Her voice is flat, no heat. )

I was a dick. I thought you might not want to hear from me and I didn't want to make it some "oh poor Sarissa, she's staying elsewhere" guilty drama, so I told Clara to spare you or Tiger or Ali having to talk to me, and so if you got worried someone who talks to you lot would be able to tell you I was fine.

( Another shrug. ) Got it wrong.

Jesus Christ... [ Sarah runs a hand through her hair, the envelope tucked under her other arm, and just looks at Sarissa. There's a lot she wants to say, but looking at Sarissa is like looking at a trapped animal, ready to bolt at the slightest opportunity. Finally, she tilts her head back toward the open front door. ]

Well, come in, at least.

( Sarissa wonders, at times, how she can feel like she never thinks enough and like she overthinks everything, and both of them so often. That she asks too much and not enough, is willing to offer too much understanding and not enough. Sarah had said she makes everything about herself - Sarissa couldn't argue with that, although she had briefly wondered if there was any effective way to defend yourself from such an argument without making it all about you and undercutting yourself, or if maybe that was a thought that only applied to the selfish and self absorbed.

She makes a soft sound in her throat, eases up from her wall-slouch, and moves to the door. The sweater she's wearing is too big and smells of weed, but she isn't and doesn't appear high as she moves towards the door. )

Open the envelope, if you want.

I'll open it if you eat something. How's that?

[ She closes the door behind Sarissa and locks it, raising an eyebrow as Sarissa passes her and she catches the smell of weed on her clothes. ] I didn't think you smoked.

( Her smile is wry. )

Deal. And I didn't. Elliot thought it'd help me stress less, or something. Calm the farm. Less grains, more leafy greens.

Did it?

[ She's not judging, just curious. Sarah enters the kitchen, sets the envelope onto the table, and fills a pot with water before putting it on the stove. Then she peers into a cupboard, looking for a full box of pasta. ] Spaghetti okay?

Dunno. Feel better than when I was drunk and angry. Calm's not the right word for it.

( Sarissa looks at the envelope, and resists the urge to fuss with it and straighten it up and try to make it look perfect, somehow, when it's just an envelope. )

So long as it's not the kind with egg. ( Her smile is tired, and she leans forward and rests her face on the table. It's cool against her cheek, and sounds slightly more positive than before, but still Not Your Usual Sarissa. ) Christmas can't get here soon enough, I swear to Christ.

You need benzos, mate. [ Said with the ease of someone who's maybe a little too familiar with which drugs do what.

Water on the stove, Sarah turns back to Sarissa and again picks up the envelope. She doesn't open it yet, though, still watching Sarissa and searching her face for clues. ]

So what's this, then?

Given my personality, I think encouraging me to take any kind of drug is a bad idea.

( And given her own low-key discomfort about them, which is probably hilarious given her ungodly alcohol consumption.

When Sarah picks up the envelope, Sarissa makes the effort to prop her chin up on her arm. Suddenly she feels... nervous. Like this could be a bad idea. The envelope isn't - A4 or so, but it's got a bit of bulk to it. Inside lies a collection of photos of Kira and Sarah, and whatever other good images she could glean from her memories. Different sizes, depending on the what should could make it be framed. The advantage of standing inside someone else's memories were that you could move to all angles and not just be restricted to theirs. )

Was part of your Christmas present. Thought you'd like it earlier, but. There's some stuff to go with it, but uh... ( She smiles crookedly. ) That's with my stuff here.

[ Sarah opens the envelope but doesn't reach in and pull out the pictures just yet. She glances back up at Sarissa, eyebrow raised, and asks, ] You sure you want me to open this right now?

[ Oh, well, she can't help herself—besides, she's got the envelope open now. She slides the stack of photos out into her hand, and at first she's not sure what she's looking at. It's Kira, but how did Sarissa get pictures of Kira? She looks back up, eyes sharp, brow furrowed in a silent question. ]

( She's nervous. Is it obvious? Her leg bounces a little, and she chews the side of her thumb as she watches Sarah. At first, her words are a bit of a stumble. )

The, uh-- memories you showed me. Turns out I can take memories and store them jn stuff. So, I was um-- basically I shoved it into a hard drive, and then I contacted my Anonymous friend for help, and they put me in touch with a technopath. Able to take the weird data jumble and get photos.

[ Sarah swallows visibly and looks down again. She flips through the pictures, slowly, taking in each one. These are moments she never thought she'd get to see again, except inside her own head. And from these different angles, they look—so normal, like a normal family doing normal things. Having a good time together. Finally, when she reaches the first photo again, she takes a deep breath and, without looking up, says in a pinched, quiet voice, ]

When the water starts boiling, throw the pasta on for ten minutes. I've—I've gotta—

[ She walks deliberately out of the room, still holding onto the envelope and the stack of pictures. ]

Oh, yeah, nah. 's fine.

( Sarissa stands awkwardly, chewing the inside of her cheek and hands in her pockets as she watches Sarah go.

She's no totally sure if that was a good reaction, and she stands silently for a couple minutes before starting to shake out of it and slowly going to make some sauce to go with the pasta. Comfort food right? Sarah might need that.

So she waits and cooks and eventually thinksbto put on the kettle, until she knocks on Sarah's door awkwardly. )

I made you tea? I can leave it out here?

[ There's no answer, but a few seconds later Sarah opens the door. Her makeup, so carefully applied earlier to look smudgy and haphazard, is actually starting to be ruined, and her cheeks are still wet from tears. She opens her mouth to speak, to say "thank you" or something, but her throat seems to close up and prevent her from making any noise at all. She just looks at Sarissa standing there with the tea, crying and more vulnerable than she ever likes to be in front of someone else, hoping that her eyes are saying it for her. ]

( One of Sarissa's hands holds the tea, and at the sight of Sarah she sets the mug down on the floor, where they can't accidentally kick it over. There's just a moment of hesitation, a moment of wondering if Sarah will want Sarissa to touch her or if she wants space, before she ruthlessly shoves it to the side and steps closer to her sister. She felt the way Sarah loved Kira in her memories, and even if that's not the same as feeling as how much someone misses someone, she's got empathy enough to get a rough idea. )

If you want, um—

( Oh, screw it. The offer to make more can happen later. Her voice is rough and quiet, and she kisses Sarah's forehead before carefully wrapping her arms around her, one of her hands running up and down Sarah's back. )

S'agapo, asteri mou.

[ It's like the touch gives Sarah permission, somehow, and she folds herself against Sarissa, sobbing. It's not right. She knows she shouldn't—Sarissa, of all people, shouldn't have to be the one standing here, holding Sarah up, but right now, in this moment, Sarah can't stop herself. It's all so heavy on her shoulders, all the time. Helena being here and leaving and being here and leaving again, and Felix gone, and Cosima kidnapped, and Sarissa killed, and George dead, and Paul dead, and Beth dead, and most of all, Kira. Over and over again, Kira gone. Every day, just waking up and moving under the weight of it all is almost impossible. ]

I miss her so much. [ The words are a whisper, barely there at all. She can't stop shaking. ] I could—I could be a good mum here. I've got money. I could do better. I wouldn't leave. Why can't she—all these people, and not her.

( Old habits die hard - Sarissa's always been better at helping other people than herself. Getting ice for her mother, fostering animals, working for the rescue division, those were roles she could step into more easily. It is easier to be steady when someone else needs you to, rather than simply doing it for your own sake, like it gave her something to react, retaliate, against.

Sarissa's arms squeeze tighter around Sarah, and her back straightens a little, so Sarah clean lean against her more without the possibility of Sarissa toppling over. There's nothing she can say, really - what could you ever say, to ease absence of a child, or someone who is a part of you? Love that strong took different forms, but even with the ache in her every day Sarissa couldn't imagine being away from Georgia was a thing like Sarah not having Kira. )

There's still a chance she'll come here. There's always a chance.

( Gentle, calming. ) And you can be a wonderful mother, even when you aren't with her. Thinking about her, that's a piece of that, Saroula.

( She's not going to say this place can be terrible, or that maybe Kira wouldn't be safe, because what kind of person would she be, kicking Sarah when she's down? Making her feel guilt for wanting to be with someone she loves, that's stitched into the very fabric of her heart? No. Sarissa makes a quiet soothing sound, and strokes her hand down Sarah's hair and then her back, and tilts her head up to let Sarah curl against her neck, if she wants to. ) You'll be back together, no matter what. That's gonna happen.

I think about her all the time. [ And it doesn't mean shit. Whatever Sarissa says, just thinking about someone doesn't count. It doesn't make her a good mother, not when Kira's an entire universe away, and it didn't make her a good mother when she was on Myrtle Beach getting high with Vic and letting S raise Kira. She thought about Kira all the time, then, too, and what did it matter?

She tucks her head against Sarissa's shoulder almost like she's a child trying to hide, and her voice is small and defeated and cracked, like a wall someone's been taking a hammer to. ]

What if I die on that beach?

You won't.

( There is a fierceness in that, a fierceness that she hasn't had since before she died, wrapping her arms tighter around Sarah. )

I don't care if I have to tear apart the bloody walls between worlds myself, Saroula. You aren't going to die on that beach. I won't let you. You are going to live, and you're going to have a long, happy life with Kira and your family. I don't care what I have to do to make sure that happens. You will live and you'll be happy.

ic contact; MoM

action; monday? idk pre gingerbread

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