(no subject)
The little clearing that Padraig and Amara use for their more private moments is quiet, the movement of the evening air barely rustling the leaves above. Lying in the centre, on his back with hands acting as a makeshift pillow, is Padraig. Eyes are closed, and he looks the picture of relaxation. He could be asleep, apart from the lack of his gentle snores or the partially irritated clenching and unclenching of his leg muscles. Occasionally he murmurs to himself in Gaelic, little ditties and tunes escaping into the placid surroundings.
Weeks have passed since the return trip from Russia. Amara has hidden herself away, seeing no one but Toxin, and that was not always by choice. Tonight is her first taste of freedom, so her first stop is the little clearing that Sabella offered her and her lover. She approaches during one of Padraig's more silent moments, and is startled to find him lying on the ground. She stands, watching him for several moments, afraid to actually speak with him. Deciding it best to leave, she turns to step away and accidently steps on a twig. Dangit.
Superhuman reflexes do have their uses. Padraig is on his feet within a moment, eyes flashing blue andthe beginnings of sparks starting their dance from his fingertips. "Show yourself!" is called out, before eyes do spot her. "Amara." Softer, though tinted by an element of hardness. Eyes and sparks fade. "Not seen you for a while, babe."
Shoulders haunch as Padraig calls out at first, and then Amara hangs her head. "Padraig," she says softly, almost too softly. After a few moments she steps from the shadow of the trees and closer to the one she loves. "I.. I'm sorry." Her eyes cannot meet his at this point. If he is to get close enough, he'll notice her breathing is uneasy, as if pained, and she's more pale than she normally is. "It was not in my plans."
"Christ. I do this every time." Self-digust crunches into Padraig's voice, and he does step closer, tipping his head to the side. "I beat on your door every day, every night for a long time, Amara. And I searched." His tone has softened, dropped to a quieter note. "What's wrong?"
Blink. "Do what every time?" Amara's voice matches her breathing in many ways, and her eyes are still kept from Padraig. "I heard you. At times. I was in my room, I just wasn't accepting visitors." As he asks what's wrong, she finally brings her eyes to his. "Nothing's wrong, love." Ooooh. There are contractions used in her sentences. Something must be wrong. "I've just missed you."
"I ask you what's wrong, and you lie and say it's nothing." Padraig notes, a wry smile twisting his lips. "If you weren't accepting /visitors/, what's wrong with me coming in to see you? I mean... we're like, you know." Shoulders lift into a shrug, before he steps that little closer to try and envelop her in his arms.
As he tries to wrap his arms around her, Amara closes her eyes tightly and does her best not to whimper. For the first time she actually appears tired, which is odd considering the fact she's been locked away for so long. "I just..." She takes a deep breath to steady herself, and to regain her normal speech patterns. "I have yet to properly readjust since my trip to Russia. I have missed you, love, but was in no shape for any sort of visitors."
"Bollocks." Padraig replies, good naturedly. "Look. If you tell me the truth, I'll tell you the truth about what's been happening around here. Deal?" Carefully, he leans over to press a kiss into her hair. Both hands trace along her back a little, designed to relax/
Part of Amara longed to leap into Padraig's arms and just be held. Yet, that prideful part of her kept her from doing so. "That is the truth," she says, her breathing growing even more staggered as she becomes upset. "I have no clue as to what I have been missing, but you have not missed a thing. I have done naught but train and rest." And suffer.
Padraig reels off the list. "You're pale, you're not breathing properly and you're not as steady on your feet as normal. Training and resting my ass, unless you're training twenty hours a day. Truth, please." Still good natured, he holds her closer now, forcing their bodies tight together.
As such, Amara does cry out, and tries to push away from the tight embrace. "It is the truth," she tries to say without sounding angry, a few tears forming in her eyes. "Padraig, I was shot. Alright? So I have been in my room trying to rest and heal, yet Toxin has increased my training." Again she looks away, embarrassed by it all.
Padraig allows her to push away, leaving his arms wide open. "Shot? Shit, why didn't you let me look after you?" And then, a darker look spreads over his face. "Toxin. Yeah, she's a bit pissed with me as well. Why has she increased your training when you're injured? That's ridiculous." He frowns, leaving arms open for her to come back into if she wishes.
"Because getting shot is really an event to brag about," Amara comments bitterly through a sigh. She rubs the right side of her chest, right above the breast. Bad spot to be shot, too. "The bullet is gone, and I was healed enough to live, but that is all." Her shirt is tugged at the collar so that she can pull it down to reveal the nasty scar. "While Toxin has no real proof, I am willing to believe that she suspects my injuries could have been avoided. She would be correct in that assumption." His arms are left empty for the time being as Amara wipes the few tears away, her head still hung low. She hates being all weak like this. "The plus side to this whole situation is that Lilli is willing to kill for the cause, and the people remaining on this island."
"For Christ's sake girl, come here." Padraig orders, stepping forward to carefully, gingerly, lay his arms around her again, watching for any wince so he can pull away. "Look, I get hurt all the time. While you were away, Magneto threw me into a wall for existing; cracked ribs, still got the cuts. Since then, I've got famous, helping Pyro sever his ties to that school, by beating up on one of their students. Believe me, Toxin is pissy with me as well. On the plus side, just the two of us have developed two more reliable recruits." Because everyone should be willing to get hurt for the Cause. Just not punished.
Amara sighs softly, and lays her head against her lover. His touch is comforting this time around. "You thought I was lying to you...." Painful thought, but not too far from the truth. She would have lied if she could have. "It sounds like we have caused quite enough trouble between us. Perhaps we will be known as the trouble couple." Funny how Amara's voice keeps the saddened tone, her breathing still hard and uncomfortable. "At this point, I would sleep for a week if possible. I am so.. weak."
"I knew you weren't telling me everything." Padraig corrects quietly, though wryly he adds, "If we survive. I'm not letting them make me back down and say I was wrong." Slowly, surely, he shakes his head. "Then we'll head back to your room and I'll put you to bed, and watch over you tonight. No arguments." And by his tone, he won't accept any. Quickly, he bends down to sweep her up and into his arms, if she will allow.
"Do I ever?" A slender brow is raised in question, as Amara allows a smile to grace her features for the first time in quite a while. Yes, it will be a little while before she is back to normal. "Padraig, love, please do not do something to get yourself killed. I.. I do not know.. what I would do without you." Again a few tears fall, marking Amara tired and emotionally vulnerable. She fights not as he picks her up. Instead, she cuddles against him, forgetting completely about the strain she could be putting on him. "I wish that, for a night, you could sleep beside me." Her eyes close. "I would give all my possessions to the one who could create such an item that would allow us to be together through the night." Yawn.
"You're a lying little madam, with a boyfriend who's going to do his utmost to stay alive for you." Padraig promises, before he sets off on the relatively short journey back to the complex. "I'd love it too, babe. MAybe some day we'll find someone who can figure me out well enough to do it. Now sleep." Graciously not comenting on the tears, the Irishman carries his better half off into the evening, towards bed and sleep for her.