Lucky number seven :)
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"I would like to reach out my little hand" Rusted Root "Send Me on My Way"
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Shana was worried, and a tad bit obsessed; she could admit it to herself. Conrad hadn't called since he had left her apartment again four days ago. She had spoken to her therapist about the supposed trip back to base and her therapist thought it would be a good idea. And now, she was waiting for the phone to ring. She couldn't call the base to look for him, she just couldn't. She hated how she jumped every time the phone rang or she heard faint footsteps in the hall, her heart jumping and hoping it was him. She felt like she was some little girl waiting for a boy to ask her to prom.
But she and Conrad were just friends and she was going to keep it that way - it would be way too complicated any other way. And yet she couldn't stop herself from thinking about him entirely too much. The way his arms felt around her the night he stayed, his strong biceps and the smile when she touched his face. Too quickly the visual memories were fading, being replaced in her mind with made up visualizations in bright colors.
She thought though that they had really reconnected and rekindled their friendship, they were laughing and talking just like they used to, it was wonderful. It was the first time she had really done that with any of her military buddies. It was sometimes easier for the civilians who knew her to adjust, because being physically strong wasn't so much a part of their life. But it was like sometimes the military personnel thought either her injury or the bad luck that led to it was catching.
She pressed the button on the phone anxiously, hearing a dial tone and confirming to herself that the phone was working for the umpteenth time that day. The other thoughts that haunted her and were the ones that kept her up at night were that she had finally reconnected with a friend, but he got sent out on a mission and hurt or killed. She realized miserably that no one would bother to inform her, they'd have no way to know that she had started spending time with him again.
Her mind went over a million and one unpleasant possibilities, some involving Conrad's demise or dismemberment, other involving how she was now the resident joke at the base, he'd just been here out of pity and to get good dirt, and once gotten, he dropped her like a hot potato.
The intrusive thoughts bothered her more than she wanted to admit, she had a real problem with anxiety and near obsessive compulsive tendencies since her physical recovery and it was difficult for her to prevent this from becoming yet another focal point for self-destructive thoughts. She took a deep breath, whistling for Chevy and walking out to her mailbox to pick up the mail and try and keep her mind off her most current crisis.
She always thought reading envelopes was interesting since losing her sight. Once she learned to read Braille, her fingers were much more adept at picking up subtle nuances in all things and whenever she got a letter addressed to her in Braille, she could always feel the light impression of the pen that was used to write the address on the front so the post office could read it. Anything without Braille though went directly to the trash. All her bills were either Braille or done electronically. She wasn't going to hassle with getting someone to help her pay her bills.
She was pleasantly surprised to receive three Braille items this day; one from her father, one from her roommate when she got Chevy and one without a return address. She hurried back to her apartment to read in safety, sitting on the couch and fingering the letters. The first two were just general concerns that she was still doing ok. She appreciated the concern but was a little annoyed with the approach. They both pretended like they didn't know that her anniversary was last week and tried to sound too light and cheerful; it ended up seeming forced. But they both meant well, so she supposed that she couldn't get too annoyed.
The last one that she thought had no return address she realized did have one, but it was written only. Interesting. She sliced the top open and slowly ran her fingers across the raised dots. A beautiful smile bloomed onto her face as she read the short message.
"Dear Shana,
Sorry I couldn't call. Opsec needed, but I will call when I can. Thank you again for the week, see you soon.
-C"
It explained why he hadn't called, her line wasn't secured but more importantly, it was in Braille. She fingered the paper, it felt just like the paper that her father and friend had "typed" on, which meant he wasn't using an automatic Braille converter. He had to understand how to do it otherwise. How and when did he learn about that? Why didn't he tell her? She couldn't help the pleased smile that came to her face though when she realized he learned it for her.
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It was actually another three weeks before Shana was able to connect with Conrad again. He had written twice and emailed her once during that time, but she was antsy to hear his voice again. She began to wonder though what she was doing, because she couldn't deny that she was infatuated with him, but it just couldn't be a good idea. His military life would be hell on any sort of relationship outside the team; she knew that firsthand. And then there were her deep-seated mental issues and those were impressive reasons to not try to get involved with anymore, much less one of the people who was connected with the main reason she had so many issues.
Logically, it shouldn't happen, couldn't. Her heart though flip-flopped nervously when he called finally and her stomach felt like she had been turning in circles for hours. She willed herself to sound calm and collected when they spoke and made arrangements for her to visit, not letting on how much she was looking forward to feeling his arms around her again, even if it was just for a quick hug.
She really wished she could roll her eyes at that moment. She sounded like a love-struck teenager, not who she was at all. And, the reality of the meeting washed over her, realizing that Conrad wouldn't be the only person she'd be seeing there, that she had a lot of bridges to repair, including with Allie. And she shuddered to think about Snake Eyes being there. Perhaps she would luck out and he'd be off on a mission or at his cabin brooding and being moody; he was good at that.
She was going to stay overnight, so she packed a light bag, a lot lighter than she used to pack. She didn't want too many options for clothing because she had to be very careful about that now. When she was home, she had everything arranged by outfits and colors, done with the help of sighted friends. And if she was ever in doubt, she had a color picker, which was a small device that could read the basic colors of things. It wasn't great for shades, but it did help her when she was done with the laundry whether the shirt was black or green.
She kept everything very casual and packed a few things for Chevy, though she was fairly certain he would be having the time of his life on base, with the other working dogs to be with. It was strange how working dogs tended to gravitate towards the like; it was like pets made him nervous. She supposed that maybe it did. When she was in the military, it was hard to be around civilians because they just didn't understand what you were dealing with.
She packed her notetaker and laptop, essential items for her. The notetaker could either input into her computer, or print out Braille notes. It had a voice read back so she'd know where she was and what she'd written. It was very similar to what her dad and friend used to write to her, and apparently Conrad as well. Not anything like a normal computer or keyboard, notetakers are based on a chorded system of typing that takes a while to get used to, especially if you can't easily tell if you are making mistakes. The paper is lighter weight than "real" Braille paper and is less hardy, but for small things, it's very handy. That he wrote it fairly well meant he'd been practicing.
Snake Eyes kept creeping into her pleasant thoughts of Conrad though. She was still so angry with him because he had tried to dictate what her reaction should be to the whole thing. He had been supportive at first, but when she was dealing with the psychological fallout, he couldn't take the heat. He thought she should shake it off like he had, of course, she was helpful in reminding him in how messed up he was, pulling his sister into the discussion. He walked out on her when she did that. Maybe she deserved it, but so did he. Bottom line, he was the dark, broody one with issues in their relationship, it wouldn't work with both of them like that.
The communication thing was so rough. They had to either use a human or computer voice translator since Snakes couldn't speak and she couldn't see his signing. You can't tell tone easily that way, and she had grown to hate the monotone of computer voice. They avoided talking anyway, since they were fighting most of the time. Snakes had never been very interested in figuring out some other way for them to communicate and so she hadn't bothered to find out either.
She finished packing her things, felt for what time it was and realized that her ride would be there to pick her up at any moment. She shouldered her bag, grabbed her long cane and Chevy's leash and was just about to step outside to go to the street to wait when the buzzer rang, announcing her ride. She went to the intercom and told him she'd be right there, then locked her apartment up securely and steeled herself for the trip back to base.
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"I would like to reach out my little hand" Rusted Root "Send Me on My Way"
------------------------
Shana was worried, and a tad bit obsessed; she could admit it to herself. Conrad hadn't called since he had left her apartment again four days ago. She had spoken to her therapist about the supposed trip back to base and her therapist thought it would be a good idea. And now, she was waiting for the phone to ring. She couldn't call the base to look for him, she just couldn't. She hated how she jumped every time the phone rang or she heard faint footsteps in the hall, her heart jumping and hoping it was him. She felt like she was some little girl waiting for a boy to ask her to prom.
But she and Conrad were just friends and she was going to keep it that way - it would be way too complicated any other way. And yet she couldn't stop herself from thinking about him entirely too much. The way his arms felt around her the night he stayed, his strong biceps and the smile when she touched his face. Too quickly the visual memories were fading, being replaced in her mind with made up visualizations in bright colors.
She thought though that they had really reconnected and rekindled their friendship, they were laughing and talking just like they used to, it was wonderful. It was the first time she had really done that with any of her military buddies. It was sometimes easier for the civilians who knew her to adjust, because being physically strong wasn't so much a part of their life. But it was like sometimes the military personnel thought either her injury or the bad luck that led to it was catching.
She pressed the button on the phone anxiously, hearing a dial tone and confirming to herself that the phone was working for the umpteenth time that day. The other thoughts that haunted her and were the ones that kept her up at night were that she had finally reconnected with a friend, but he got sent out on a mission and hurt or killed. She realized miserably that no one would bother to inform her, they'd have no way to know that she had started spending time with him again.
Her mind went over a million and one unpleasant possibilities, some involving Conrad's demise or dismemberment, other involving how she was now the resident joke at the base, he'd just been here out of pity and to get good dirt, and once gotten, he dropped her like a hot potato.
The intrusive thoughts bothered her more than she wanted to admit, she had a real problem with anxiety and near obsessive compulsive tendencies since her physical recovery and it was difficult for her to prevent this from becoming yet another focal point for self-destructive thoughts. She took a deep breath, whistling for Chevy and walking out to her mailbox to pick up the mail and try and keep her mind off her most current crisis.
She always thought reading envelopes was interesting since losing her sight. Once she learned to read Braille, her fingers were much more adept at picking up subtle nuances in all things and whenever she got a letter addressed to her in Braille, she could always feel the light impression of the pen that was used to write the address on the front so the post office could read it. Anything without Braille though went directly to the trash. All her bills were either Braille or done electronically. She wasn't going to hassle with getting someone to help her pay her bills.
She was pleasantly surprised to receive three Braille items this day; one from her father, one from her roommate when she got Chevy and one without a return address. She hurried back to her apartment to read in safety, sitting on the couch and fingering the letters. The first two were just general concerns that she was still doing ok. She appreciated the concern but was a little annoyed with the approach. They both pretended like they didn't know that her anniversary was last week and tried to sound too light and cheerful; it ended up seeming forced. But they both meant well, so she supposed that she couldn't get too annoyed.
The last one that she thought had no return address she realized did have one, but it was written only. Interesting. She sliced the top open and slowly ran her fingers across the raised dots. A beautiful smile bloomed onto her face as she read the short message.
"Dear Shana,
Sorry I couldn't call. Opsec needed, but I will call when I can. Thank you again for the week, see you soon.
-C"
It explained why he hadn't called, her line wasn't secured but more importantly, it was in Braille. She fingered the paper, it felt just like the paper that her father and friend had "typed" on, which meant he wasn't using an automatic Braille converter. He had to understand how to do it otherwise. How and when did he learn about that? Why didn't he tell her? She couldn't help the pleased smile that came to her face though when she realized he learned it for her.
::::::::::::::::::::::::
It was actually another three weeks before Shana was able to connect with Conrad again. He had written twice and emailed her once during that time, but she was antsy to hear his voice again. She began to wonder though what she was doing, because she couldn't deny that she was infatuated with him, but it just couldn't be a good idea. His military life would be hell on any sort of relationship outside the team; she knew that firsthand. And then there were her deep-seated mental issues and those were impressive reasons to not try to get involved with anymore, much less one of the people who was connected with the main reason she had so many issues.
Logically, it shouldn't happen, couldn't. Her heart though flip-flopped nervously when he called finally and her stomach felt like she had been turning in circles for hours. She willed herself to sound calm and collected when they spoke and made arrangements for her to visit, not letting on how much she was looking forward to feeling his arms around her again, even if it was just for a quick hug.
She really wished she could roll her eyes at that moment. She sounded like a love-struck teenager, not who she was at all. And, the reality of the meeting washed over her, realizing that Conrad wouldn't be the only person she'd be seeing there, that she had a lot of bridges to repair, including with Allie. And she shuddered to think about Snake Eyes being there. Perhaps she would luck out and he'd be off on a mission or at his cabin brooding and being moody; he was good at that.
She was going to stay overnight, so she packed a light bag, a lot lighter than she used to pack. She didn't want too many options for clothing because she had to be very careful about that now. When she was home, she had everything arranged by outfits and colors, done with the help of sighted friends. And if she was ever in doubt, she had a color picker, which was a small device that could read the basic colors of things. It wasn't great for shades, but it did help her when she was done with the laundry whether the shirt was black or green.
She kept everything very casual and packed a few things for Chevy, though she was fairly certain he would be having the time of his life on base, with the other working dogs to be with. It was strange how working dogs tended to gravitate towards the like; it was like pets made him nervous. She supposed that maybe it did. When she was in the military, it was hard to be around civilians because they just didn't understand what you were dealing with.
She packed her notetaker and laptop, essential items for her. The notetaker could either input into her computer, or print out Braille notes. It had a voice read back so she'd know where she was and what she'd written. It was very similar to what her dad and friend used to write to her, and apparently Conrad as well. Not anything like a normal computer or keyboard, notetakers are based on a chorded system of typing that takes a while to get used to, especially if you can't easily tell if you are making mistakes. The paper is lighter weight than "real" Braille paper and is less hardy, but for small things, it's very handy. That he wrote it fairly well meant he'd been practicing.
Snake Eyes kept creeping into her pleasant thoughts of Conrad though. She was still so angry with him because he had tried to dictate what her reaction should be to the whole thing. He had been supportive at first, but when she was dealing with the psychological fallout, he couldn't take the heat. He thought she should shake it off like he had, of course, she was helpful in reminding him in how messed up he was, pulling his sister into the discussion. He walked out on her when she did that. Maybe she deserved it, but so did he. Bottom line, he was the dark, broody one with issues in their relationship, it wouldn't work with both of them like that.
The communication thing was so rough. They had to either use a human or computer voice translator since Snakes couldn't speak and she couldn't see his signing. You can't tell tone easily that way, and she had grown to hate the monotone of computer voice. They avoided talking anyway, since they were fighting most of the time. Snakes had never been very interested in figuring out some other way for them to communicate and so she hadn't bothered to find out either.
She finished packing her things, felt for what time it was and realized that her ride would be there to pick her up at any moment. She shouldered her bag, grabbed her long cane and Chevy's leash and was just about to step outside to go to the street to wait when the buzzer rang, announcing her ride. She went to the intercom and told him she'd be right there, then locked her apartment up securely and steeled herself for the trip back to base.
