IC CONTACT

[postscriptum]

<span style="font-family:courier; color:#93002d;">TO:</span> first.last@compass.net <span style="font-family:courier; color:#93002d;">CC:</span> firstname.lastname@compass.net <span style="font-family:courier; color:#93002d;">BCC:</span> firstname.lastname@compass.net, firstname.lastname@compass.net <span style="font-family:courier; color:#93002d;">FROM:</span> firstname.lastname@compass.net <span style="font-family:courier; color:#93002d;">DATE/TIME:</span> Day Twelve, Night. 63:19PM <span style="font-family:courier; color:#93002d;">SUBJECT:</span> (no subject) <span style="font-family:courier; color:#93002d;">MESSAGE:</span> No message. <span style="font-family:courier; color:#93002d;">CONTACT:</span> first.last@compass.net <span style="font-family:courier; color:#93002d;">MESSAGE:</span> <span style="font-family:courier; color:#000000;">text</span>

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[postscriptum]

[ amy hasn't slept much more than rory had — a little more, yeah, because no one bothers waking her up when another medical emergency comes to the make-shift clinic, but she's still made a point to be out there and try to find survivors of the train wreck and bring them to the clinic herself. gotta stay busy, yeah?

so when rory moves and starts making noise, it wakes her and she's not particularly pleased with that fact. instead of protesting verbally ( too much effort ) she presses her face closer to rory's shoulder, following him and slinging a leg over his. no more moving, mister. ]

[expect]

( he hadn't meant to wake her. rory's first instinct is to apologise, murmuring a 'sorry' while shifting a bit more, angling himself slightly more towards her, wrapping an arm over her back. he privately suspects they're not words amy would really want used to describe herself, but he loves her like this, too, soft and warm against him — maybe he can go back to sleep.

but it's futile, he realises after a few minutes. he's comfortable, he's warm, he's more than contented with their position…

and he just can't chase the thoughts away. he tries not to move or make a sound, tries to think relaxing thoughts (largely about the woman in his arms), and… nothing. the clinic, the patients, quantities of supplies, mirar pushing himself, where is everyone…

without realising he's doing it, he starts to wind his fingers through amy's hair, something to occupy himself with as he stares frustrated at the ceiling. )

[postscriptum]

[ she doesn't think of herself in those terms and she doesn't think that anyone else should be thinking of her in those terms, either — they're not bad, but they don't really apply. amy is many things, but soft and warm? maybe in moments like this, but not generally.

she drifts for a while, still so close to sleep — but she ends up giving it up because he's obviously and decidedly awake and the fingers carding through her hair aren't unpleasant, but they're not really letting her sleep, either.

mumbled: ] What is it?

[expect]

Sorry, ( he says again, stilling his movements. he'd barely realised he was doing it. ) It's nothing important. Go back to sleep. ( he means that. it doesn't feel important, like something that should be important. he knows everything will be fine. it should be fine. )

[postscriptum]

's all right. [ but now she's awake, too, and she shifts until she's able to look at him, bleary-eyed but determined. ] Spill, mister.

[expect]

Mmm… ( there's no use arguing with her when she's like this, and it's not important enough to try. ) Just thinking about the clinic.

[postscriptum]

What about it?

[expect]

The usual. ( supplies, work, if everyone's okay. there's some forced lightness in his tone; ha ha i'm being stupid, but he gives it up as a bad job. he shifts, sitting himself up a little bit and turning, so he's facing amy.

it's not quite the usual. ) Anders came back. ( the clinic leader and a friend, who trusted rory enough to ask him to be his second in command… and vanished, a couple of weeks before. rory would have mentioned him enough in passing for amy to know the name. there's a clear but in his tone. )

[postscriptum]

Yeah, and —? [ because there's clearly more coming. he sits up and after a moment, amy follows his example and makes her way into a more upright position as well, pulling the covers with her and wrapping them around herself. ]

[expect]

And he doesn't remember anything. ( in a way, it's the obvious second part; there's a certain air of of course he doesn't in rory's tone. )

[postscriptum]

[ perhaps she should have expected that. ] Ah. [ a pause. ] What do you want to do, then? About the clinic?

[expect]

I don't know. ( he stares down at his lap, frowning thoughtfully. ) I was taking care of things because I sort of assumed Anders would come back, or someone would say - you know, 'okay, I'll do it.' But Whale doesn't want to, and none of the others have been here all that long.

[postscriptum]

Nothing wrong with you running things.

[ just because in their daily lives, amy is the one to call the shots 9 times out of 10 doesn't mean she doesn't think he can do it. ]

[expect]

No, ( he says reluctantly - 'no, there's nothing wrong with it,' not an argument, but he's not sure he can really — well, after all, it's not his thing, is it? he's not a leader. and although he can happily go on about how nursing is superior to doctors, it's — is he really qualified? would anyone listen? is he good enough? )

[postscriptum]

[ of course he is all those things. people are already listening, aren't they? ] Don't be daft, Rory.

[expect]

Thanks for the loving support. ( he teases; as negative as he's being, he can at least recognise it's making him a little ridiculous. )

[postscriptum]

[ his tendency to assume the worst makes him plenty ridiculous in amy's view. fortunately, he has a sweet and loving wife who will punch him when he's being dumb again.

you're a lucky man, rory williams. ] Seriously, though.

[expect]

I am being serious. ( he says it wryly, but… )

[postscriptum]

The clinic's running well, yeah? [ as well as it can given the lack of resources, etc. ]

[expect]

Right now. We have more supplies than we usually do. ( that's practically 'good,' isn't it? he sort of half shrugs, and shifts, burrowing his way farther down into the bed and onto his side, facing amy. )

[postscriptum]

So you're not doing badly, running things. [ doing well, in fact. still following, rory? ]

[expect]

I can't keep running it. ( he does see where she's going, but cuts her off at the pass. )

[postscriptum]

Why not?

[expect]

Because — ( he looks at her, a little bit perplexed. obviously, he doesn't expect her to say 'no, you'd be awful,' to put him down or not be supportive in general, but… this is obvious, isn't it? ) You know. I'm rubbish at it.

[postscriptum]

Well, now you are being daft. [ because it's not obvious at all. ] You've not been rubbish at it at all since I got here. [ and she doubts he was, before. ]