2010-06-17: In Case We Die (The Amazon)



Date: June 17, 2010


Sometimes it's better to know.

"In Case We Die"

Small River — By the Yomami Village

For the past few days the village has been a bustle of activity, as families prepare to leave the village that has been their home for many generations. While the wives and children gather things, the men, have been huddled together talking strategy. What the team does know is they will be distracting these soldiers, while the families flee with the Mother of All.

It's been a long day for Mark Scotts, having to sit and listens to elders. He's never been good at languages, but he has gotten to where he understands a few. At this moment, he's escaped the village to the nearby small river. He's still in that tank top and cargo pants, that orange paint is flaked and chipping. The occasional woman stops not far from him to gather water, but for the most part they are ignored.

Kneeling on the bank of the river, Mark dips a shirt that's been shredded to rags in the river. He can't help but stare at the rippled water and the scruffy reflection of himself. The cloth is held dripping in one hand, as he runs a hand over his jaw. He almost doesn't recognize the man reflected back. Finally tho, the cloth is gripped in both hands so he can scrub at the paint.

Heavy booted steps tread through the Amazon as Jo peers about. She'd wandered the village, and much of the surrounding area to find Mark. Some conversations inspire. The one with Cody certainly worked its magic. Yet despite her inspiration, she couldn't find Mark. Having finally given up, she made her way to the river to clean off the layers of now-caked-on dirty from her face and arms.

She stops dead in her tracks as he enters her view and silently stares, considering what to do. She slinks back a few paces, somewhat unsure, but then shakes her head a little, strong in her resolve. Inhaling a deep breath, she moves forward, still unsure.

Quietly she kneels next to him and shoots him a small smile. She holds out a hand for the cloth.

The movement of someone joining him, has Mark pausing, with the cloth at the back of his neck. Water droplets slide down his cheeks to be caught in the hairs of his short beard. He seems almost startled by who is there, brows lifting a little on his head. The cloth is slid off his neck and offered over to her.

"Fancy meeting you here." He gives her a small gentle smile. His other hand runs over his face, wiping some of the water away. "I — ah — figured I should freshen up a bit. Can't be looking pretty, especially after that wild party." He seems almost to be feeling a bit awkward.

She accepts the cloth, setting it on her knees, and sits on her heels for a moment, weighing something. Slowly, and somewhat still unsure she inches closer to him, her knees grinding in the mud created by the river bank. At least it's soft.

Reaching up slowly, she attempts to turn his chin to face her— assuming she's allowed. Her weight is moved from her heels as she leans upwards, grazing her lips lightly against his and her fingers sidling his cheeks and the water droplets in his scruffy-ish beard.

The move on her part is unexpected and truly stuns the man for a moment, brows tilting up as his chin is turned. Blue eyes search her face, with a sort of curiosity, especially this close. When she leans in, she doesn't have far to go as impulse drives him forward as well for that first tenative touch of lips.

But then, one hand reaches up and curl his fingers around her hand holding it there to his cheek, as he twists to settle one knee into the mud of the bank. Facing her now, as well, Mark leans in brave another kiss, this one with a little more feeling behind it.

Fervently the second kiss is returned. Jo's fingers cradle Mark's face even after the kiss is broken moments later. She swallows, furrows her eyebrows, and plucks the cloth from her haunches where she'd left it rest. Carefully, she dips it in the river water and then proceeds to work at the paint on Mark's face. Finally, she manages, "I… I'm sorry if that was too…" something. Sheepishly she smiles before shrugging and then adding, "I needed to know." She smiles more sheepishly, "In case we die. Or something."

He's very good about sitting there still for her, hands resting flat on his legs, Mark's eyes study her as she runs that cloth over his face. The explanation gets a soft smile, "You could have just asked?" There is a touch of amusement in his voice. "I mean… not that I'm complaining or anything. Not everyday a beautiful woman steps out of the jungle to lay one on you."

There is the touch of fingers on her side, a gentle tentative touch, as Mark does offer honestly. "I'm glad you did…" His brows furrow a little in thought. "Admittedly, I've been wondering that myself, wanted to say something the night of the feast…" There is a but there…

"But, I figured talking to you when I've had a few, would probably be a bad thing."

"I'm pretty sure I've never asked permission for anything in a good ten year or so— " Jo quips as she carefully dabs off the paint. With a lopsided grin she adds somewhat rhetorically, "Why start now?"

Her lips press together as she silently goes about her work, the question on the tip of her tongue, all the while, but she's nothing if not disciplined. In fact, nearly all of the paint is gone before she dips the cloth in the water again and finally asks, "Why?"

There's a moment where her eyes narrow a little, her gaze at the horizon rather than on Mark. "I realize… I'm not always the most personable person. In fact, I think half your team still thinks I'm dangerous. Going to shoot them if I have the chance." She shrugs a little before working at the last of the paint.

Brows twitch upward at her question, it's a good one. Catching his bottom lip in thought, tip of his tongue wetting it, he considers his answers. "There are certain… stereotypes that seem to be expected of people born to privilege." His mouth pulls up on one side in a rueful smirk. "I've never exactly fit that box." His brows lift giving her a matter of fact look, "My brother does. He likes the gold diggers, the ones that are soft and easily manipulated.

"I'm not my brother." His head shifts to the side a bit as his eyes travel over the greenery around him, hands lifting to encompass where they are. "Case in point." As his hands slowly lower, Mark turns his attention back to her. "I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth, but this is me."

His hand grasps her wrist slightly, stopping her from what she's doing, something passing over his features, as his other hand slides around her waist. His words are honest and softly spoken. "A dangerous woman… Know how to take care of herself. Don't mind a little dirt and grime and are happy roughing it." His fingers let go of her wrist so he can brush the pad of his thumb across her chin. "Not afraid to stand up and wield a rifle —which is kinda hot by the way — and shoot someone.

"I need someone like you in my life, because… my life is not some game… it's dangerous and any woman with me, has to be tough." It's a sad fact, but there you have it. There is a twitch of a smile as he adds, "And those other types of woman, just flat don't do it for me."

"So… could I be?" Jo's features soften, "The woman with you, I mean." Her gaze moves downwards. "I'm tough. I like roughing it. I can't remember the last time I ate normal food" thanks to a healthy diet of MRIs while living in New York "and was raised this way… to be… like this. I grew up in a Navy family that moved a lot. If you didn't adapt, you were screwed permanently. I feel spoiled by the hammocks we've got the last little while and I actually like the tarantulas for dinner."

She tightens her jaw, "I'm not extraordinary or incredibly artistic, but one thing I am is tough. I don't get pushed around. I get even when I'm manipulated. And I don't just let things slide." She leans into the hand on her waist, just a little.

"And beyond that, I know what I want." Her hazel-coloured eyes now try to meet his gaze.

"Oh yeah." Mark answers her question, giving a soft huffed chuckle, head nodding an affirmative. Fingers slide along her jaw, until they can lay along the curve of her neck, thumb brushing along her jaw line. "Definitely…" He murmurs, sounding dead serious.

His hand presses against the small of her back so that he can pull her close, as his blue gaze meets hers. His head ducks down, thumb moving to press under her chin to tilt her head up, just a little so he can brush a light kiss along the curve of her jaw. "Kate…" He whispers hers her name…

Then at the worst possible moment there is giggles not far from them. Mark freezes, nose pressed against her jaw. "Damn…" She can just hear him whisper, with a tiny groan.

As she closes into him, her arms comfortably wrap around his neck. Easily she obliges him, her head tilting upwards under the direction of his thumb.

The sound of her name— the one she'd heard last from an illusion in her own mind, an illusion of her parents— causes her eyes to close gently, becoming absorbed wholly in this moment.

And then… the giggles.

Her cheeks flush a little as her eyes open. "We have an audience," she can't see them, but the sound is enough for the pair to know they're there. She also groans just a little, before looking into Mark's eyes again, "We'll live through this. There'll be more time than here and now." She's still trying to believe it, yet her tone borders on confident. "Assuming you want there to be."

As something is said behind them with more giggles, Mark can't help but comment, "I wonder if that was the Yamomami version of 'Get a room.' " He turns her head a little as he straightens to look behind him as a few woman step out of the woods giving them a knowing look, before they go about the business of getting water. "Though, I guess here it's 'Get a hammock.'"

Turning back, Mark gives her a soft look. Leaning down he gives her another, softer lingering kiss, pointedly ignore a fresh round of giggles. It has him smiling though, as he pulls away. "I look forward to continuing this conversation away from prying eyes."

Which around here… those eyes are everywhere.

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