Lyra could feel herself beginning to slip into a panic and had to force herself to manually slow her breathing just to stave it off. She needed to stop worrying so much, but couldn’t seem to shake it off. Namir’s response came as a small comfort at least, the brutal honesty much appreciated. Even if the truth might hurt her more, it still mattered that she heard it.
For the past several years she hadn’t been able to talk about her trauma. Instead, she’d always had to lock those feelings away for fear of what might happen if she voiced them to the wrong person. Finally having someone she could bounce her worries off of was almost a relief… if only she could get past the fear of coming across too whiny, or ungrateful, or inconsiderate — especially knowing Namir already despised her so much for the role she’d played.
“I guess you’re right,” the doctor said after a moment, finally snapping out of her reverie whenever the other woman sat up and began fixing up her hood and mask. When the other woman stood and stretched her legs, telling her that she was going to head out of the bunker for a little while to scout and that she was not to leave unless absolutely necessary, she gave a solemn nod. Even if she had wanted to leave, there was nowhere else she could go. Returning to the commune certainly wasn’t an option. If anything, she was just relieved to finally be free of that miserable place.
She didn’t voice it out loud, but if she was being honest, Lyra was a little nervous about being alone. Likely the other woman wasn’t going very far and would continue to keep an eye on the bunker in case if she did try to sneak out, but what if someone else snuck in and she didn’t have a way to defend herself? How soon would Namir realize if something like that had gone wrong, and how quickly would she be able to return? It was clear that despite the fact the assassin was opting to leave her by herself hardly even twelve hours after the two had first become acquainted, she still didn’t trust her very much. They had made some progress, but it was reasonably slow going considering how much bad there was to account for.
Hardly five minutes had passed since Namir had left the bunker before Lyra finally got up and began pacing the area. She could feel herself starting to get restless, as she wasn’t used to being inactive so far into the day. If the assassin hadn’t broken in the night before and taken her from the commune, she would have been at work right now, likely working another 12 hour shift sorting through new test subjects. A shiver racked the doctor’s thin torso at the thought; granted, she was relieved to not have to be at work, but that didn’t change the fact that she couldn’t stand being idle for so long.
She needed something to do, something to keep her mind occupied or else she was just going to fall into another panic attack. Of course, Lyra was used to having and dealing with those by herself, but her situation was too precarious to take any risks right now—she couldn’t afford the vulnerability. There was also the fact that she was still so exhausted, but a nap was also out of the question. Even if she had wanted to take one, she wouldn’t have been able to… her body had a schedule, even if it was slightly erratic.
After a fair bit of pacing, the doctor finally came up with a plan to distract herself. She began to wander the bunker, picking through the remains of so many discarded materials that were scattered all about the room. Lots of old clothes, trash… Most of it was useless, but every now and then she’d find something with purpose. A backpack, old and tattered, musty in its disuse. She picked that up, empty out the useless remains, and hauled the thin straps over her shoulders. She didn’t have much of her own possessions to put into it right now, but it could still prove useful in the near future.
In a far corner of the large room, there was a makeshift bathroom area carved into the wall: a small shower stall, a single toilet. A try at the faucet in the shower provided insight that the pipes were unfortunately no longer working. What a shame -- a shower might have been nice. On the other side of the small room, there was a cabinet stocked to the brim with towels, soap, a small assortment of hygiene products. She raided that supply in earnest, as most of her own toiletries had been left behind at the commune as well. They’d been in her locker on the opposite side of the building anyway, so she wouldn’t have been able to take anything even if she had remembered to.
At the back of the cabinet she found a couple toothbrushes still in their packaging, a half-empty tube of toothpaste, a small wooden comb. She tossed these items into her new bag and continued on about the room. There wasn’t much else she could really take with her, as most of it was too bulky to even try to squeeze into the bag. Sure, there was the small problem that once they finally reached their destination she would only have one or two sets of clothes to work with, but there was only so much she could haul on her back without risking slowing herself down too much in the progress.
With a sigh, she returned to the wardrobe by the wall and grabbed the few articles of clothing she had brought with her, still a little damp from trekking through the snow the night before. She moved them closer to the stove, spread out in the empty space between her and Namir’s two separate cots so that the fire might dry them a little bit faster. It was as she was finally returning to her own cot and settling back into the covers to try to rest for a bit that the door on the other side of the room creaked open. Lyra felt her spine go rigid as she shot back up, peering through the half-dark and then letting out a sigh of relief to see it was just Namir.
“So, how’s it look out there?”
