SD241909.12 || Joint Log || "Close Encounters"

Posted on 12 Sep 2019 @ 6:06pm by Lieutenant Commander Jacqueline Wallace-Shaw

1,681 words; about a 8 minute read

Mission: Tyr's Hand
Location: Alaska, Earth

=/\= Begin Log =/\=

Jacky couldn't recall a time in her life where her head had hurt so badly...

She opened her eyes but they instinctively shut again against the bright sunlight. It took her brain a moment to catch up to the fact that sunlight was not something she was supposed to be seeing, and yet she was. Carefully, she wedged her eyelids apart by a sliver and looked around. Sunlight. Dirt. Trees. Why was she lying on the ground outside? Was this a dream? It had to be, right? It had to be a dream.

Carefully, she pushed herself up to a seat on her knees and took a long look around. After a few moments, she realized that her face felt weird and she reached up to touch a long trail of blood from her temple down. Well. That wasn't good...

The tundra was ablaze with color, a balm to the pain that lay coiled in his heart, and the day was warm enough for mid September in the Alaskan wilderness. He and Vater had lived here for years and he knew the rhythms of this place. He knew that the temperatures weren't going to rise above 40 during the day now until Spring; he knew that the first dusting on snow on the mountains heralded the beginning of winter. And while, he preferred the wolf to the man most days, he also knew that he would need to lay in provisions for the fast approaching winter. Dressed in a forest green Henley, old jeans, and heavy boots with a jacket that the locals, few and far between the warmest months and much less so now, would consider too light, Roman stopped at once, flattening against the ground, as he watched the woman. He saw the bright bloom of blood against her skin and took in the inappropriate clothing choices that marked her as 'someone-who-did-not-belong'. Someone who especially did not belong on Vater's ... no, his ... land.

The decision was harder than it should be. In the bush, one gave aid as one could because someday, it could be you in need. And yet, in the aftermath of the attack, Roman felt a reluctance to help that was foreign to his nature. Swearing under his breath in the German of his childhood, he climbed to his feet and walked near to her but still outside of arm's reach. He squatted beside her, bringing his hazel eyes level with her own, and asked in each of the languages he knew, "are you alright?"

Hearing the voice, Jacky startled and immediately winced because it caused a sharp, intense throb of pain in her head as she winced and looked at him. He wasn't dressed in a way that was familiar, but then, nothing was familiar... "I... I don't think I am," she managed. "I don't even know where I am."

"You're on my land," Roman said after a moment. He wrestled with himself once more and again, chose to do what was right rather than what was safe. "Listen," he said in a gentler tone, "I have a cabin, maybe two miles from here. There's food and a fire. Maybe a bit of both will help you remember."

Jacky blinked at him blearily. She was on his land? But...who was he... "I... I don't know you," she said, then actually began to doubt herself. "I don't think I do." She closed her eyes again and held her head.

"I don't know you either," he said, the German of his youth evident in the phrasing and tone of his speech. "My name is Roman. Roman Gant. If that helps you any." He rose to his feet, shrugging slightly, as he did so. People came to live in the bush for many reasons and not everyone who came here was sociable or even able to trust though it was also true that many of those didn't make it. "Come with me or stay here. Its your choice."

"Jacky," she said quietly, squinting up at him. The indecision wasn't making her head feel any better, but since she didn't seem to have many options... "I...would appreciate your help." She started to get to her feet, swayed and ended up on her knees again for a moment while the world spun.

He lifted her up, cradling her against his chest, and took off for the cabin. Long legs and a ground-eating stride brought them to the cabin in just under fifteen minutes. It was a mistake, he thought, to bring her to the cabin. Probably a mistake but he couldn't not help either and so, he resolved as he climbed the last rise to where the cabin stood, if it went as bad as it was likely to, he would just have to start over. Wouldn't be the first time.

The cabin was a simple square with the fireplace standing in the center. To the right was a table and a rudimentary kitchen; to the left, a sleeping area and opposite that, shelving with a variety of goods. There were no modern conveniences but that wasn't something bothered me even a little. He needed very little and what he couldn't find or make for himself, he traded for in the town, a day's travel down the mountain. For the moment, suspecting a concussion, he laid her down on the bed, tugged off her shoes and pulled the blanket up over her. "Rest," he said quietly.

Chores were a part of life and the routine helped steady him, gave him time to think. He built up the fire and brought more logs from outside. The fireplace with a two small ovens to the right, that worked using the heat from the fire, was intended for food preparation and had two arms set on pivots, one to either side. He went back out and drew water from the well which he brought inside and set on the counter and spent the next few minutes chopping root vegetables from the bin he kept on a shelf in the kitchen as well as sprigs of herbs from the bundles drying overhead. He added water and set the kettle on one of the hooks then headed back outside. He didn't want to risk shifting with a stranger so near and chose instead to use some of the meat he had in cold storage. He cut that into bite-sized chunks which he also added to the stew then pushed the arm closer to the fire to begin cooking. It would take an hour or so he figured. Time enough to think and maybe have a cup of coffee.

He set a pot of coffee near the fire and sat down, staring into the flames, lost in thought.

To Jacky, things just...didn't entirely feel real. There was an element of the disassociated, of the surreal, to everything happening around her. At points, she wasn't sure she didn't black out, but at other times, it was just hard to see past the throbbing headache drilling into each temple.

Eventually, though, the haze began to clear slightly. She blinked carefully and looked around, realizing that she was somewhere equally unfamiliar but at least...more indoors-ish? Even if it looked like something she had only experienced via books or holovids. "Hello?" she said, her voice tremulous.

Roman came around the edge of the fireplace, coffee in hand, and said, "feeling better? There's stew if you're up to it and coffee."

Jacky was no medic so she had no idea what was best, but the coffee smelled good. "Coffee...to start," she said carefully, pushing herself up to a seat with a grimace. "Thank you...for your kindness. I'm sorry. I don't recall your name?"

"Roman," he said and walked back around to the front of the fireplace where he poured her mug of coffee and brought it back. "No sugar or milk, I'm afraid," he said as he passed the mug to her, "those are luxuries I don't usually have."

"That's fine," she said distractedly as she took the mug. "I mean... It's nice to have those things, but it's okay for me not to..." Was she making sense? She didn't feel like she was making sense. "I'm Jacky... Jacqueline Wallace-Shaw. Can I...ask where I am? This isn't anything like where I was..."

"It's Alaska, what we call the bush. What you might call the middle of nowhere. Folk around here are few and far between and mostly, they like it that way," Roman said. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"I was..." She hesitated, realizing something else. Her gray eyes blinked rapidly as adrenaline spiked--painfully--with rising panic. Everything looked...wrong? "What year is it?" she asked, not even realizing how the question would sound.

"2037," Roman said. "Early spring which is why you aren't suffering frostbite along with that head injury."

"2037..." Jacky replied, feeling her chest tighten. "That's not good..." Her eyes unfocused. "2037... No. No, not good at all..."

"Well, you're not wrong," Roman said. "Even with the lack of amenities, its still better living out here than anywhere Colonel Green can find you. Maybe you should ... you know ... rest a bit? Not knowing where you are and all, that's worrisome."

Jacky frowned. She knew she shouldn't say too much and yet she was struggling to remember how much was too much, and why... "I was somewhere else," she said softly. "I...wasn't here. Then I was here. I don't remember how it happened."

"Rest," he said. "You're safe here. I'll be nearby if you need me." He returned to the fireplace and poured himself a cup of coffee. He pulled an old blanket across his lap and settled back, staring into the fire, lost in thought. After a few sips, he put the coffee cup on the hearth to one side and leaned back in the seat. The flames undulated in slow movements that smoothed the worries of the moment out of his mind.

=/\= End Log =/\=

Lieutenant Commander Jacqueline Wallace-Shaw (apb Bella) & Roman Gant (apb Star Geek)

 

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