Sable's Experiences

[Toaster]

//Still canon.

May 8, 828 A.S.

Olivia collapsed into a heap on the sofa with an exhausted sigh, letting her body sink into the still uncomfortably plush cushions, like a boulder sinking into a tar pit. Her muscles ached all over, her skin tingled and burned, her stomach growled, and her mind was a jumble of incoherent thoughts and emotions. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, attempting to clear her wits.

The past two days had been nothing but hellish torture.

The awful reunion with Isla and Reyes; the confusion and anger at their reactions to her sudden reappearance; the accusations and distrust. Their words and suspicions had felt like claws in her chest, rending the mercenary's heart apart. The panicked and confused flight to Beaumont Base had done nothing to calm Olivia's nerves, and she had spent the night aboard the ramshackle station seething in her ship's cockpit, replaying the encounter in her head over and over again, trying to understand what had gone wrong. Ultimately, she tired herself out on thoughts of wringing Reyes' neck and finally fell into a restless slumber.

This morning, she had felt the urge to talk to someone, anyone who would listen to her and not judge her for what she had been through. Prower kept her word and joined her at the smuggler's den on short notice, willing to talk her through her confusion and anger. It had gone well - the off-duty navy officer encouraging the mercenary with words of understanding and trust - until, of all people, Silverstone and the Cobra stumbled upon them. It had taken all of what remained of Olivia's fortitude to restrain herself from letting her fighter's weapons loose on the unwelcome duo. Finally, however, it was Cobra who seemed to empathize with her and dragged his rotten freelancer companion away.

In the end, Olivia was able to calm herself enough to realize that there was only one way to regain her closest friend's trust. Reyes and Isla had insisted that she should go through a medical examination, to ensure properly that she was indeed who she claimed to be and not a host for a Nomad incubus. The very thought of it had at first revolted her - to return to a medical facility after weeks of lying in a coma. But, if there was no other way to prove to Isla that she would pose no threat to her, she would undergo the procedure.

A call to an acquaintance on Denver ensured her a prompt appointment at a renowned private clinic on the planet - no questions asked. Not that she would have been willing to answer any, regardless. Isla joined her, making up for her earlier lack of confidence in her friend with a show of support. The following hours had exhausted Olivia's remaining mental and physical stamina as she underwent test after test, scan after scan.

But it had paid off. The doctor revealed that the irregularities that had appeared during the exams were easily explained and of no danger. Internal scarring from years of fighting and the recent skin transplant. Foreign genetic material in her bloodstream from the augmented, cloned tissue. Migraines and sporadic sensitivity to light caused by stress. He explained in clear terms that all Olivia needed was rest and recovery. It was a treatment she would gladly subscribe to.

Isla's worries - and Olivia's own, growing anxieties - had dissipated in an instant upon hearing the good news. She was who she said she was. That much was clear.

Now, finally, here she lay, practically drowning in the overly soft pillows of a couch she hadn't touched in months. Slowly, Olivia opened her eyes, taking in the only half-familiar surroundings of her Manhattan flat. Even in the dim light of the nighttime city that washed in through the enormous windows, she could see the layer of dust that covered what little furniture inhabited the space. She would have to clean it up soon. But not now. Now, she would just lie here and rest, hoping for sleep to take her.

Taking another deep breath, Olivia rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. A sharp pressure was forming in her head, an all too familiar sensation of the past two weeks. The oncoming migraine would delay her descent into the realm of dreams for a few hours, she guessed. Dark spots formed first in the corners of her vision, then more and more towards the center. Olivia frowned. They didn't seem to be their usual black.

// ›› Read Lunch on the planet of Lost Angels! ‹‹

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Olivia Sable