<div class="floatright">(http://t0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSBadCQB7tH7yfWujsxz9qb8Xj3tkLgrm9Yg9Qp1SZLAqk7KOv3&amp;t=1)<strong><br/>Sara (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=150938.msg6869979#msg6869979)</strong><br/><strong>Location:</strong> Outside Dom's bus<br/><strong>Summary:</strong> begging<br/><strong>Tagged: </strong> Noah, Dom, Twitch, Mika, Tim, Chris<br/><hr/></div><br/>Before she could swallow up the guilt, Tim began speaking - or sentencing, rather, and even even she had the good sense not to interrupt the man when he spoke - even if she hated him beyond measure. She despised him even more so for funneling that draconian bullshit into Dom's skull, further contaminating whatever scrap of character the man could formerly claim. Dom had recognized, albeit in jest, the same strength that she had sen in Noah. That was<em>something</em>. Maybe she was merely confusing the lesser of two evils for good, but she clung to that scrap of hope while being lead outward.<br/><br/>Time had slowed to a miserable crawl. Nausea washed over her in torrents. Her eyes narrowed into slits to meet the blinding sun as she followed in a surreal stupor. Sara hadn't been outside since they last made camp, and the open air felt strangely foreign against her skin.<br/><br/>She had to keep her eyes trained on her boots while being labeled a snitch.<em>Fantastic</em>. She'd not be winning any slave pen popularity contests. Her sight was only sent jerking upward at the mention of Devon and Dom's intentions to claim his ownership of her. She was instantly transported to the final moments she spent alone with her brother, layging back on the hood of his truck under the dessert stars as they detoured from finalizing their escape plans to talk shit about the raiders.<br/><br/>"<em>You know... I reckon that Dom fellow, he ain't that bad - least not compared to the others. Maybe if he'd been lucky growin' up - like you and me - thing's 'd be different with 'em. Wouldn't be twisted up in the head like he is.</em>"<br/><br/>It was one of the last things she remembered Devon saying to her. She wished she could pluck every last word from the air and shove them down Dom's throat. Torn between feelings of betrayal and entirely uncomfortable gratitude her mind spun to make sense of Dom's motives. She couldn't for the life of her understand what he'd want in usurping Devon's claim. The puzzle hardly held a candle to the conundrum Noah threw next. Careful observers could see her heart break in real time, fracture by fracture.<br/><br/>She didn't understand. He'd been so eager to save her, so much so that she was made to question whether his spite was a ruse, a carefully crafted ruse to ensure she was spared. Or had the boy bought the lies told by Dom to protect the property he planned to acquire?<br/><br/><em><strong>We </strong>have his gun. <strong>We</strong> could give it back...</em>She never had any intention of skirting the blame. She wanted to shout it at the top of her lungs, but imagined it would only make it worse for everyone involved. What was she to do? What was she to say? Everything that came to mind would have only deepened their troubles. One renegade slave was a troublemaker. Two working together was a rebellion, and she was liable to get them both killed for that.<br/><br/>She'd examined every possible scenario and come up wanting for a solution. "<strong>I'm so sorry, Noah. I love you</strong>." She murmured lowly. Unable to keep her commitment to inaction, she buckled at the last moment, desperate gaze shifting between Tom and Dom. "<strong>Please, if there's anything I can do...</strong>"<br/><br/>It was a kind of humility she rarely lowered herself to, but if she lost Noah, then she'd truly be alone in the world.<br/>