coppelganger | ic contact; MoM

( One slow and groggy smile for Sarah. )

I think they put me on some real good painkillers.

( She’s not sure how to tackle all the rest of it. How is she?

Not okay, but she isn’t sure she can lean into not being okay, anymore. She knows how destructive she can be. ) Rainbows and stuff, that’s me.

[ Sarah scooches the chair closer to the bed so she can brush Sarissa's hair out of her face, smiling wryly, but not without affection. ]

Yeah, right.

( She smiles a little more. It's easier to look at Sarah than it is to look at her arm, think about her arm. Doesn't mean she isn't thinking about it, though. Doesn't mean she doesn't keep remembering.

Her eyes shut for a second, mouth jerking downwards unhappily, and she gently squeezes Sarah's arm. )

Probably this is a point where I should mention I'm allergic to bees. Should always have an epi-pen handy, but I always forget.

( Diversions with humoouuurrr kind of. )

What, so the bees stung your hand and it just... fell off?

[ Hooray, gallows humor. But seriously, until Sarissa gives her the actual story, what's she supposed to do? The whole thing is so fucked up, and she's just glad Sarissa is alive. ]

My hand actually turned into a bee, is what happened. Body rejected it pretty aggressively.

( Gallows humour, or just painkillers humour? Or is this just regular Sarissa? )

Thanks for comin' to get me.

Yeah, 'course. Sorry I couldn't do more.

[ Like... find the hand and put it on ice, or something. ]

( A sniff, and she lets go to Sarah to rub her hand over her face. )

You did heaps, always have. I'm—

( God, this is hard. Her fingers press hard over her eyes for half a moment. ) Don't worry. Do um, do the others... know?

Alison's here. I called her. I didn't want her to worry.

[ She's not sure if it was the right thing to do, what Sarissa would have wanted, but she had to. ]

No, that's good. She has to know.

( Hard to hide a missing hand from someone you live with. )

Can you— I want to be more healed up before more people know. So they don't see me like this. All messed up again, y'know? I don't— I'm worried about people having to look after me and worry about me.

[ I mean. Okay. Sarah's not sure she agrees with this sentiment, exactly. She can understand why it's going through Sarissa's mind—it would go through hers, in the same situation, she's sure—but the thought of keeping this from Cosima, even for a short length of time, just seems wrong. They're clones (and Sarissa's still one of them, whatever biology might dictate); the first response to any threatening situation is to hop on the clone phone and discuss. Still, it's what Sarissa wants, and Sarissa's the one missing a hand. ]

Alright. If that's what you want.

I want the Porter to develop a less shitty sense of timing.

( It's not a helpful thing to say, and she mouths a near silent sorry before letting her hand slide back to her side. )

You deserve better than dealing with my shit all the time. All of you.

We've all got shit, Riss.

[ Sarissa does have a lot of shit, it's true. But it's not like Sarah has any less. ]

Yeah.

( Yeah, they sure do. Sarissa is quiet for a moment, and swallows.

That "quiet for a moment" ends up stretching out for a while. )

My cover got blown. People I was infiltrating figured out I used to be a cop.

[ Sarah doesn't say anything, waiting on Sarissa to give her more detail. If she wants to. Sarah's not going to push her right now. ]

( Her mouth opens to continue, then closes. She has no idea what to say, and if she even wants to say it. It's too vast. It's like— like trying to figure out which part of a ship to start bailing water out of, when all you've got to get the job done is a teacup. Insurmountable, and all that.

What'll happen if she lets the ship keep sinking? What happens if she tries to bail it out and fails?

Instead, she just holds out her hand, hoping Sarah will take it. )

ic contact; MoM

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