Walls
Title: Walls
Ship: Guzman/Mira, Mira/Carter friendship
Genre: Drama
Rated: G
Word Count: 1178
Summary: She doesn’t know how she would’ve made it through the last two months without her friend by her side.
A/N: Written for Guzman/Mira - walls by morganel for ‘Friday One Word Challenge’ - Week 10
Makes reference to ‘Growing.’
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It took her people some time to acclimate to the hardships of the jungle, to distance themselves from the luxuries back in Terra Nova, to avoid reminiscing about the simplicity in which life had been conducted beforehand. Grumblings ceased and morale increased once construction finished on the tree houses, each Sixer owning their own share of paradise between the sky and the earth.
It had been a difficult transition. For some, awaking with the rising sun, having bird calls serve as alarm clocks and weather dictate their plans for the day did nothing more than rile up and cause havoc among them. Short tempers, foul tempers, brawls, arguments. It was a pain in the ass. It didn’t help that a lot of the people didn’t know each other all that well. It would’ve seemed suspicious had they all congregated together inside the gates, kept amongst themselves.
In an attempt to resolve the problems within their group, Carter had decided, in one of his more kumbaya moments, to go around the campfire and share their reasons for traveling 85 million years to the past. Met with quiet and annoyed stares, he’d bravely decided to go first.
“For my sister. She’s sick. You’d think medics would get decent health coverage but...you know how it is.” At the conclusion of his revelation, he threw a small twig into the fire, his usual smirk absent, worry taking over as he contemplated his sister’s wellbeing.
Some looked around the circle while others bowed their heads, looking pensive. After a few quite seconds, different voices rung out in the night.
“I’ve got two kids. They deserve a chance.” Jackson, a voice tinged with experiences that belied his age, confessed.
“Family.”
“I want to get off the streets. Live like a human being.” Alvarez joined in.
“Same here.” Michelle, a dark haired woman with a brown eyes, often found in arguments with others admitted. Her sarcastic humor often provoked the more sensitive crowd but it gave her reason to chuckle from time to time.
“I had nothing going for me back there. This gave me a purpose.”
A chorus of declarations followed after and soon everyone had contributed to the conversation except her. She let a moment pass as she took in the glances in her direction before responding.
“For my daughter.”
Silence fell once again but unlike the start, it was not filled with tension. Smiles were exchanged as well as understanding glances. The serenity that took over their motley crew was pleasant, a relief. It seemed they had finally found common ground, a true feeling of fellowship borne that night.
“Wonder what they call us back there?” Drake asked after a moment. Her people turned towards each other, some shrugged their shoulders at a loss.
“Sixers.” It was one of the younger members of the group that answered. Tony. “I heard one of them say when they passed by a tree I was in a couple days ago on that trek to the east.”
“Sixers? Well, it could be worse.” Michelle laughs and everyone joins in, volunteering more imaginative and colorful names.
Footsteps on the wooden floor lifts her from her reverie. Having no need to turn around to know who had entered her space she continues rummaging around, in search for a photograph she had misplaced the night prior.
“It’s under your pillow.”
She’s confused for a moment as she turns to her bed, wondering when she had placed it under makeshift pillow, as her fingers find the sharp edges and pull it out.
“I put it there last night when I came to check on you,” he says as he takes a seat on the edge of her bed as she does.
“Thanks, Carter.” She gives him a grateful smile.
“It looks like your insomnia is going away. I found you completely out of it. Tucked you in.” It was followed by a soft bump of his shoulder against hers.
“Did you sing me a lullaby, too?”
“I’ll do that next time. Requests?”
They both chuckle, the rising sun casting brilliant shades of golds, oranges and reds through the entrance of her treehouse. She carefully returns the picture of her daughter under her pillow and turns to her friend as he begins speaking.
“Any nightmares?”
He knew that during the last two months her nights had been filled with horrible dreams. Most of them entailed having her daughter ripped away from her arms after reuniting. Some were of her chasing after men who refused to let her hold Sienna, telling her she failed, that she’d never see her daughter again and no matter how fast and hard she ran, she could never reach them as they took her away. Others involved Isaac. Sometimes he’s angry, telling her he refuses to help her find her daughter as he walks away, blaming her for losing their unborn child. At times he appears out of nowhere, his face expressionless as he points his gun at her. She always wakes up as he pulls the trigger.
But its not always nightmares. There are dreams. Dreams about holding her daughter, playing with her, teaching her how to ride a bike in a park inside of the domes. Hearing her say that she loves her and telling her the same in return. Watching her grow up, spending every day with her to make up for her long absence. Watching a little boy with curly hair and beautiful dark eyes run to her, calling her mommy, tugging on her hand as he point his small index finger off into the distance.
Dreams about Isaac. Him finding her, seeking her out. Uttering not a word as he walks up to her and crashes his lips against hers, taking her roughly against the wall, a tree, the jungle floor. His eyes telling her he understands. Dreams where she finds him, apologizing as he takes her in his arms and doesn’t let go.
But she can’t recall any from last night and tells Carter as much. The man has been by far the greatest friend she’s ever had and she’s not quite sure how to thank him for it but she knows she will one day.
“So, is today the day?” His eagerness makes the corner of her mouth lift in mirth.
“Today’s the day.” She rises and waits for him to do so as well.
“That’s good because I’m really in the mood to cause trouble.”
“When are you not?”
“I can behave if I want to.” He feigns insult as he makes his way to her.
“But you just don’t want to?”
“That’s right.” And with that final remark he makes his exit.
She takes one final look around her home, the walls surrounding her, encasing her in a new world. If the lack of dreams last night was a sign telling her that she was ready to do what needed to be done, the message was heard loud and clear. It was time. And with her trusted second by her side, she knew things would be okay.