2007-08-04: Trying to Heal


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Namir drops by again to get his arm fixed and to try to fix things between himself, Bekah, Elijah, and Samantha.

Dark Future Date: August 4th, 2009

Trying to Heal

Samantha and Bekah's Apartment.

Bekah is actually awake and in the apartment. It's almost a miracle. Well, she's getting ready for bed, so maybe it's not so much of one. It's dark outside, almost as dark as the circles ever present these days under Bekah's eyes. Her hair is wet from a recent shower and pulled back into a simple ponytail. She's wearing a pair of boxers and a tanktop as she heads to the kitchen for a glass of water. After all, it's just her here.

But not for long. Since the night that he shot at Elijah, Namir has been evicted from the apartment. Again. But now he's back from outer space. This time, however, he has the courtesy to at least knock — even if he's knocking at the kitchen window. Perched up on the fire escape dressed in his usual combat gear and headscarf, the Israeli almost blends into the dark night. Knockknockknock.

The knocking startles Bekah as she's opening the refridgerator. She turns swiftly away, grabbing a knife from a drawer as she looks to the window. "Who's there?" She calls. "Namir? Are you breaking in again?"

The knife doesn't faze him. He's been threatened with worse. Namir simply crouches there with a deadpan expression. "Not if you open the window and let me in first," he grunts through the glass.

"Why should I? You shot at Eli. Why should I let you in my home?" Bekah questions. Their relationship had been a bit strained since whatever the hell is going on in Sam and Namir's relationship, but there's more anger in Bekah's voice right now than was there during any of that.

Once again, Namir remains stone-faced. She's never been that angry before, but he knows it's also warranted. He did shoot at her brother. Had she not defended herself, he would've shot at Samantha too. He's become someone that his loved ones should fear. "I need a favor." Because this is obviously the best time to ask for one.

Bekah has had time to stew on it, so she's more angry about the gunshot than when it actually happened. The constant tiredness doesn't really help make her wonderfully cheerful, either. "Does it involve putting you in agony? Surgery with no anethetic, maybe?"

It takes a great degree of control for Namir not to roll his eyes. Beneath the mask, his lips purse tightly a moment, and he stares at Bekah directly. Maybe he deserves that. Maybe. He's had some time to think about things too since that night. If she had not defended herself, he would have shot Samantha. It's a sobering thought, to realize that he would have killed his own wife out of paranoia. "I'm sorry for what I did to your brother, Bekah. I really am."

Bekah sighs. "What do you need? Maybe I can just get it done and get on to bed. Cause it's past my bedtime." Not that's sleeping enough, anyway, for the engery she's using. "Whatever. You can be sorry all you want, but it doesn't mean that I trust that you won't shoot him, or me, in the future."

Namir starts to roll up his sleeve to expose the bandage still wrapped around his upper arm. "I need you to heal this — but I don't want you doing it if it is going to make you pass out." He could wait a week or so for it to finish healing, but he's got things to do, and he's out of commission in the meanwhile. He does not address the issue of shooting Eli or Bekah just yet.

Bekah opens the window finally. It doesn't mean she's letting him in though. "I'll be fine." She says stubbornly, reaching out to grab his hand. "Remember, I wanted to heal this up the first night." She says pausing for just a moment as she heals up the gunshot wound. She doesn't pass out, but she is swaying when she's done. He's caught right at bedtime when she's already exhausted. "There. Can you take the stitches out yourself? Just clip and pull."

"You would heal yourself to death if Sam would allow it," mutters the Israeli. "I don't like contributing to your zombification." Before she can draw away again, Namir reaches out with his free hand to snag Bekah by the wrist and stares intently into her face. "I am sorry for what I did. It was foolish and ridiculous, and it's not something I want to repeat." He releases her again and starts to rise. "Tell Sam I'm sorry too."

"But not Eli? He doesn't get an I'm sorry?" Family ties are close here it seems. Bekah shakes her head. "I'm not turning into a zombie. I'll be better once I sleep." And back in this near collapse state by the next night, likely. "Just make sure it doesn't happen again. Please."

"If you'll tell him for me, then he does," Namir states. "I don't think he would take too kindly to my tracking him down to tell him in person." That last bit about it not happening again is met with a soft grunt. He can't promise that. With his business concluded, the Israeli heads back down the fire escape, as silent as he came.

Bekah shakes her head as he goes. She closes and locks the window again. The glass of water is forgotten in favor of stumbling directly to bed and falling to sleep almost as soon as her head hits the pillow.

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