Aftermath

[Sarah McFarlen]

Sarah 'Sparks' McFarlen

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Sarah nodded stiffly, settling into a space next to Alex's foot. He didn't know? It took her longer then it should have to realize that no-one besides the Oberst and herself knew who had really been driving Arsenal on the run that had nearly killed three people. Three of her friends. She prodded Alex's toe through the sheet, half-expecting her finger to glide right on through. None of this felt real. The whole ward had a strange air of disconnection about it, a scene glimpsed through a smoke-obscured mirror, the nurses little more then actors on a stage. Only the gentle click of the fans and chirp of the heart rate monitor beside the bed, reminiscent of the bing of a ship's map, seemed real; seemed normal.

Alex had laughed. Sarah didn't know what to make of it. When the world threatened to collapse around you, and you met it with a smile? It showed a strength in the young revolutionary that Sarah hadn't expected. She tried to return it, a frail, watery smile, but a smile nonetheless.

"I-" She caught herself, started again. "Yeah. It was me on Arsenal. I'm sorry, I didn't know you were anywhere near it, I would've-" I would've stopped it from pumping you full of enough radiation to start your own power plant? Yes Sarah, well done. "I would've done something. With Zwickau and everything else, I was just trying to find a way, Alex. I thought that maybe, if I could fly Arsenal remotely, we could save people. I never meant for this to happen. I'm sorry." Those two words again. She twisted on the bed to face Alex. "How bad is it? The nurses wouldn't speak to me outside. Will you be okay? I mean, I know people in Liberty. They've got clinics there that can help with this, and you said you wanted to go earlier. It'd be sort-of like a holiday."

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"This is really sort of a personal project of mine."

- James Arland, on single-handedly engaging an enemy regiment.

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