Oops!
((Random number generator sez: 14. Your character walking in on mine in the middle of a mental breakdown.))
Anyil had returned to the Helicarrier fairly soon after the mess with Jenn was sorted; she’d been debriefed and chewed out a bit for not reporting it sooner, though her well-reasoned replies had kept the scolding to a minimum. It had taken a welcome mental effort to keep the replies from being retorts, an effort that kept her mind firmly from the things she didn’t want to think about, from the slight but noticeable tremor in her left hand, from the buzzing at the back of her mind and the faint sound of gunfire and explosions whispering through the back of her mind. However, the hour came soon enough when she returned to her empty quarters, with no company and no distractions. Before she could convince herself to roust up Hazel, or go to the library, or even just get to the gym and destroy another poor dummy, the uniforms in the closet turned to camouflage instead of deep navy and the air acquired that harsh sting that the sand and sun tended to impart. And then it was Jen at her side instead of Thera and Mike and she was carrying Jaime through the streets, bandaged and bleeding, hoping she could get her to the hospital and save her, and Anyil didn’t even register the tears running down her cheeks. She was caught in the past, in terror and with a friend who had died in her arms, died because of her actions, and it was in this state that Gideon found her when he came in to check on her and make sure she’d reported all the injuries from the rescue.
