[ She was losing control. She could feel herself losing it, that was the worst part, to know what was happening. That tight control she always had over herself-- not in the sense that she held back or hid things any more than a girl hides things, but in the sense that she always had a firm handle on who she was, where she was going, and how she was
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she was somewhere on this huge ship, alone and sick and in the pouring rain and alone.
it took an hour or two and incredible luck, but jogging through the shopping district on a hunch paid off. there she was--and it broke his heart. crouching down in front of her, kamina was spooked at how empty her eyes were. no light, no life, no nothing. like someone had left her body but taken her spirit.]
Sheryl?
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And so she did, with a vague sort of relieved not-really-smile, tumbling forward as she finally let herself pass out. ]
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the community! thank god for it. he scrambled to the computer to ask for help.
and help, eventually, did come.
once they'd left, he took a quick shower and changed himself, resigning himself to the long, hateful task of waiting for her to wake up.]
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The bedroom was dark; let's see, there had been the hospital, the library, and then.... what? She couldn't figure out what had happened or where she was until she swung her legs over the side of the bed and saw she was wearing those ridiculous flame-patterned pajama pants, rolled up at the ankles six times.
She hadn't called him, she knew she hadn't, even though she'd hovered over the name in her phone three or four times before throwing it out the window of the taxi. So how...?
Standing up fully, she went to the door to the main room and pushed it open. ]
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regardless, he been at sheryl's elbow the minute she stepped into the kitchen. other than opening his mouth in order to complete his self-given occupation of quality assurance whenever her back was turned, not a sound came out of him. there was an element of intense interest and calm in watching a person do something they were good at. he was almost sad when the meal was done.
almost.
for a second.
then he remembered that it was time to eat (and with the biggest bowl in the apartment too, hell yeah). all was well again.]
This is gonna be awesome. [he claims as he digs cups from the dishwasher.]
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Don't you ever get tired at staring at me cooking? Are you looking for the magic instant when ingredients become food?
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