Ajay can't fly directly to Kyrat. There's no flights going there from America, so his travel plans are all sort of jumbled up and confused. He'll have to change flights three times just to get close to the country, and then he's found a place where he can take a bus into Kyrat itself. After that… well, after that, he has no idea what he's going to do. Figure out where Lakshama is, probably. Then turn around and get out of the country as quickly as possible, before he gets shot or blown up or something. Ajay keeps trying not to think about it, but it's hard to ignore how badly messed up the country is. He's found confusing reports of some kind of civil war, but the details are pretty sorely lacking. Ajay has no idea what he's running into.
So in a way, he's almost glad to hear his first flight is delayed. Weather. So here he is, just over an hour's drive from his shitty apartment, watching the departure board and hugging his mother's urn to his chest like a security blanket. He keeps thinking that it's not too late. He could still just turn around and go home. Stay out of some stupid civil war that has nothing to do with him.
Every flight out has been delayed, and the gates are slowly filling up with people impatiently waiting for the storm to clear. Ajay had snagged a chair early on, but given it up when a rowdy family of six sat down next to him. He's just not in the mood for their happy chatter, or the way the three oldest children keep jumping around, whining for attention.
The youngest just sits on his mother's lap, watching the storm outside through wide, terrified eyes while she hugs him tight.
Ajay finds a new place to sit, leaning against a wall with his back to that big, happy family. He pulls off his bag to use as a makeshift pillow, and wedges his mother's urn against his knees. It's hard to believe that this is all that's left of her.
"Are you planning to take up all the space on the floor, or is there room down there for one more?"
Ajay jumps and almost drops his mother's urn. "Uh…" He looks up, and there's a woman about his age standing there, giving him a smile that would be borderline flirtatious on anyone else's face. But there's something about her face that just looks so weirdly similar to Ajay's mother that he can't let himself be charmed. "Yea," he says, turning away from her. "Sure."
"Packed in here," she says. She's loud the way some people get when they're used to being listened to. "I hope they start letting flights take off soon."
Ajay grunts.
"Barrel of sunshine, you are," she mutters. "I was just making conversation."
"I'm going to the country where my mom was born to scatter her ashes," Ajay says. That's usually enough to get people to stop prying. "So I'm not really in a sunshine mood."
"Sucks," the girl says. She shows no sign that she plans to stop prying. "Where was she born?"
"You've never heard of it," Ajay says.
"I've heard of lots of places."
"No one's ever heard of it."
"Try me."
Ajay sighs. "It's called Kyrat," he says.
"What! Really?"
Ajay has been determinedly not looking at her since she sat down, thinking that maybe she'll eventually get the hint and stop talking to him. But she sounds so suddenly enthusiastic that Ajay looks at her now. Really looks.
There's a distinctly tailored look to her. Perfect clothes. Perfect face. Perfect hair. Ajay's tempted to compare her to a Barbie doll. But there's something about the way she smiles at the mention of Kyrat that makes her look more real.
"What a marvelous coincidence," she says.
"Coincidence?"
"I just came from Kyrat," she says. "I grew up there—it's my home."
Ajay half laughs. "Well that's not what people usually say when I tell them I'm going there."
"What do they usually say?"
"Usually they say 'wait, where?' because they've never heard of it," Ajay says. "But sometimes they ask me if I'm suicidal or something, so…you know. That's nice."
"It's not that bad," she says dismissively.
"Isn't there a civil war, or something—"
"Well, sure. But I have a good feeling about you. You'll be fine."
"Hmm."
The two of them are silent for a while. Eventually, Ajay decides it might be polite to continue the conversation. "So what about you?" he asks. "Why are you traveling?"
"Hoping to find my mother, actually," she says. "I know she's living in America…" she makes a vague, unhappy noise. "Somewhere. With my half-brother. But, um… my family's kind of a mess."
Ajay is surprisingly eager for the chance to hear about someone else's problems for once. "Care to share?"
She sighs. "It's not a fun story."
He makes generic, encouraging noises, and she gives in almost at once. "My parents weren't married when they had me," she says, and gives him a sharp look like she's expecting some sort of comment. Ajay stays quiet. "My mother was actually married to someone else."
"Ah."
"Yes." Her voice is tight. "Her husband found out when I was a year old. Very nearly killed me. Nobody knows exactly what happened—I certainly don't. But my mother's husband was killed. My mother left for America with my brother. And I stayed in Kyrat with my father."
"So what happened?" Ajay asks. "Why come looking for her all of a sudden?"
"It was just time," she says. Suddenly, they're both looking at the urn on Ajay's lap. "I don't want to wait too long and find out…" She's quiet for a second, then lets out a long, slow breath. Tries to cover up the awkward silence with a painfully awkward laugh. "Well," she says. "That's probably enough awkward oversharing." She points at the departures board, and Ajay sees that they're starting to let a few flights take off again. "And my connecting flight is taking off soon."
"Oh," Ajay says. His plane is still horrifically delayed. "Yea, sure. Nice meeting you."
She stands, brushes the dirt from the floor off her pants—and just like that, she's gone.
"Huh," Ajay says, and he goes back to staring moodily at his mother's urn.
-/-
It's a bit tiring, really, to always be correcting people on her name.
The flight attendant looks at her ticket, then her passport, and there's that familiar, brief look of panic as she tries to puzzle through the name there. She soldiers on bravely. "Welcome aboard," she says. "Miss… Lak…" She says it like lake.
"Lakshmana," she says. She tries to give her voice the kind of casual authority her father always has, but she's not him, and that's a lot to live up to. "Lakshmana Min."
"…yes," the flight attendant says. She scans Lakshmana's ticket, and waves her aboard (and away) as quickly as possible. Lakshmana takes her seat (first class), and settles in. Her stomach is all butterflies. She doesn't know where she's going. Doesn't know if her mother is still in America, or even if she's still alive.
But if she's here, if she's alive, Lakshmana is damn well going to find her.
And maybe her brother, too.
-/-
So... I don't even know what I'm doing in this fandom. I haven't touched FC4 for about six months, so... sorry if there's anything messed up in here! I tend to make mistakes.