Chapter 2: Martinez

The corridors are confusing. People rush around her, scurrying to various unknown destinations with urgency and purpose. The push of people feels claustrophobic to Elise as she stands still in this seemingly seething mass of purposeful people.

Lost and feeling so alone with a child not of her own, it becomes too much. The flight over rubble strewn destruction. The smoky air that had choked her lungs. Not knowing if her parents and brother had survived the insanity outside.

Holding this small baby in her arms, sobs shake her to the core, she slides down the gun metal gray wall, to sit, crumpled in on herself. trying to push away the reality of her life. Maybe the child she held felt her emotions, or, perhaps, she was simply tired and hungry. Nevertheless, the child's cries joined her own. her own quiet sobbing, punctuated by the wails of a small infant. The crew of the ship took no notice of Elise, the necessity of getting their jobs done efficiently and quickly weighing on everyone's mind. The resolute means survival, emotions can wait.

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It is not until a young man walks down the corridor, searching for the med bay, that Elise gains a measure of comfort. Seeing her, so lost and alone, his heart breaks, just a little. Easing himself to the floor beside her, he lets his knee touch hers as his arm snakes around shaking shoulders. Gently, he pulls her into his arms, careful of the small bundle cradled to her chest. He does not speak. There are no words that can ease the pain either of them have experienced. So, he holds her, he shows her that there is someone who cares; someone who will take the time to simply hold a grieving girl.

The sobs rattling Elise grow stronger when she feels the reassuring embrace. As though, now, she was finally safe enough to let go of that last barrier. Her near silent crying becomes a heart wrenching sob; a keening wail bursting from her lips. Now that she's finally let go, she can't stop. Elise feels as though her body is going to shake apart, but still she cannot stop. Tears soak through the young man's shirt as he silently holds her. Head nodding in affirmation.

She does not feel the pressure of the hypodermic needle as it presses into her arm, nor does the cool rush of liquid into her vein even register. But the sedative does its job, and she slides into unconsciousness.