#nowhere left to run

[jammatown919]

Nowhere Left to Run

Yaz once believed things would be okay if she could just get off Isla Nublar. She knows better now.

Chapter One: The Myth of Happy Endings

At 18, Yaz felt for a moment that she might have her life back. 

It had been a struggle, these past two years post-Nublar, to pick up where she'd left off. Six months on dinosaur infested islands and a miraculous return may have made her something of a celebrity for a while and gotten her family a frankly obscene amount of money in legal settlements, but it had basically ruined the remainder of her high school experience.

The ordeal itself had eaten up the second half of her sophomore year, and a focus on recovery cut a few months into her junior year as well, meaning she had way too much catching up to do to even think about rejoining the track team right away. Even worse, her experience had made her a spectacle. Suddenly everyone was talking to her, wanting to know every detail of the worst thing that had ever happened to her, and she struggled to have a single conversation in which Nublar was not brought up. 

Senior year was better, but really only because she was running track again. And even that she sometimes struggled to enjoy, when the ankle she'd sprained and never really sought proper treatment for began to throb at the end of the day and she had to push to the finish line despite it. Those days reminded her a little too much of Nublar, where she couldn't stop running no matter how much pain she was in, because to stop was to give up and meet the jaws of a hungry carnivore. 

Things really started looking up the summer following graduation, because she got to spend it on an extended visit to her girlfriend in Texas. 

Though living on a cattle ranch took a bit of getting used to, it was worth it to Yaz to be with someone who understood her in a way few people in the world could. And though Sammy's family didn't quite get of all it the way Sammy herself did, at the very least they were sensitive to what the two of them had been through. 

That summer was full of nothing but happy memories. Every morning, she would wake up early and go for a run. Then, on the return trip, she would run into Mr. Gutierrez and Sammy's oldest sister, Sierra, in the middle of the morning's chores and help them out. Sammy and her mother would be nearly done making breakfast by the time they got back, her younger sisters Carmen and Bianca setting the table for seven. 

Yaz spent her days outside, learning in the ins and outs of cattle ranching and what Sammy and her sisters liked to do for fun. They made up silly games to play during their chores, went into town to show Yaz their favorite places, laid around inside on hot afternoons. In the evenings they sipped lemonade on the porch and chased fireflies. At night, Yaz would tuck herself in on the spare twin mattress that had been set up in Sammy's room, and within an hour find herself snuggled up in bed with her girl instead. 

Not long into the visit, Yaz began to think about a longer-term situation, researching colleges and their sports programs in the area. Mr. and Mrs. Gutierrez were happy to keep her longer, and soon enough she was choosing a place to enroll and communicating with track coaches about the team and potential scholarships.

When fall rolled around, Yaz remained in Texas, now splitting her time between the ranch, school, and her new track team. It all seemed perfect, except for one thing. 

The more she ran, the more her ankle hurt. 

It had been easier to ignore over the summer, when she was running on her own time and could pace herself as she needed, but at practice with teammates and a coach, she had expectations to meet. Like in high school, like on Nublar, Yaz ran through the pain, determined to reach the finish line by any means necessary. She was the most committed runner she knew, and nothing was going to take that from her. 

For a while, that worked out alright. The ankle would start to hurt at the end of practice, when she didn't have much farther to go anyway, and be fine by the time she needed to run again. But as time went on, the pain became more persistent, until finally, something gave. 

Her ligaments, to be exact. 

One second, she was completely in her element. Making great time on the track, looking forward to movie night with Sammy after practice, hardly even feeling that stubborn ache. The next, her foot folded underneath her and she ate shit so bad it was almost funny. 

For a moment, disoriented with her scraped cheek pressed against the ground and a white-hot pain shooting up her leg, she was back on Nublar. Running for her life until a fatal misstep. Surely an eager Baryonyx or T. Rex or good old Toro was only a step behind, ready to deliver the consequences. 

And there on the track, right in front of her coach and several teammates who had come over to see if she was alright, she started bawling. 

"I-I'm sorry," she sobbed to no one in particular. Several people murmured things, but she couldn't hear them. 

"Alright, Fadoula, alright," Coach said gently. There was no walk it off or take five, like he usually gave a runner who took a tumble. He knew a real injury when he saw one. "Let's see it. Can you sit up?"

Yaz slowly did as he asked, carefully maneuvering her leg out in front of her so she could see it too as she gingerly worked her shoe off. It had already started swelling, and she didn't need anyone to touch it to know it hurt like an absolute bitch. 

"Feel like a sprain?" Coach asked. Yaz nodded silently. "Okay, let's get you off the track. Need me to call anyone?"

"I'm gonna- gonna call my girlfriend..." Yaz stammered. Coach gently patted her arm and nodded to a few of the others that had gathered. 

Two of Yaz's teammates stooped down to help her up, supporting her as she limped over to a nearby bench where she'd left her things. She couldn't bring herself to look at them, hot with embarrassment as tears poured down her face, and they had the decency not to say much. They just sat her down and left her be, one mumbling something about coming back with ice. 

Grateful for their lack of fussing, Yaz fished her phone out of her bag, knowing she was due for a helping of it now. Sammy answered on the second ring and seemed to already sense something amiss. 

"Yaz?" she asked. "Practice isn't over yet, is it?"

"Can someone come get me?" Yaz hated how pathetic she sounded, asking that with her thick, teary, wavering voice, but she didn't have the energy for pleasantries. 

"What's wrong?" Despite being unable to see her, Yaz could clearly picture the furrow in her brow that always accompanied that worried tone. 

"I fell... it's my ankle. I think I need to go to Urgent Care."

A door opened and closed on Sammy's end of the call, followed by a slightly muffled, "SIERRA, GRAB THE KEYS." Then, more softly, "you're where you usually practice, right? Where you showed me?"

"Yeah." Yaz sniffled and wiped at her eyes. 

"Alright, baby, we're coming." Sammy yelled a few more things to Sierra, and another door opened and shut. "You just hang tight, okay? We'll be there as soon as we can. How bad is it?"

"Pretty bad." Yaz tried to flex her foot and sucked in a breath its sharp rebuke. "Like, Mosasaurus Lagoon bad."

Sammy muttered a short string of curses as two car doors slammed. "Don't move it. We're leaving right now. Just stay where you are."

They stayed on the phone in the meantime, though Yaz didn't speak much more. She sat there quietly, accepting ice as one of her teammates came running back with it, and tried to get her breathing under control. All the while, Sammy murmured comforts she could barely hear. 

She couldn't believe how quickly her day had been ruined. Not only was she hurt and humiliated, but in the two years since she'd been home, she'd never felt closer Nublar than she did right now. If she closed her eyes and focused only on the pain and the sound of Sammy's voice, she would find herself back on the edge of that lagoon or perhaps in the monorail. Knowing this, she kept her eyes fixated on hallmarks of her normal life. 

The track. Her teammates returning to their practice. The phone in her hand. Anything to keep her grounded. 

She stayed like that for a while, barely responding when Sammy checked on her, until she could hear the car door opening on the other end. 

"Okay, we're in the closest parking lot we could find," Sammy said. "I'm running over."

Before Yaz knew it, she could see Sammy across the grounds, literally running over to her. She might have found it cute, had she not been in such a bad way. Presently, she just wanted to get the hell out of here. 

Yaz put her phone away as Sammy reached her, putting on a strained smile. 

"Hey," she said.

"Oh, Jesus." Sammy knelt down in front of Yaz and reached for her face. For a second, Yaz didn't know why, but a brush of Sammy's fingers and a dull jolt of pain reminded her she'd scraped it on the ground. 

"Yeah, I really ate it," Yaz replied, forcing a chuckle. "Ankle's not doing so hot."

"I can tell." Sammy looked reproachfully down at the swollen, bruised joint, like she was mad at it for causing Yaz pain. "I'm gonna help you to the car, okay? We're going right to the doctor."

They hooked arms around one another and, together, pulled Yaz up from the bench. With her free hand, Sammy easily scooped up Yaz's bag and slung it over her shoulder. In perfect sync, they began to hobble forward at normal walking speed, distributing weight perfectly between them so that Yaz wasn't being dragged or carried but Sammy still picked up her slack. 

This lopsided three-legged walk, and their equally efficient run, was a skill they had perfected on Nublar, when Yaz had busted her ankle in an environment that offered no leniency to the injured. All of Yaz's real friends knew how to support her like this, as they'd all had to at some point or another. It was easy to slip back into the old practice, though it reminded her sharply how she'd never liked other people carrying her weight. 

Still, she couldn't argue with the results. They made it back to Sierra's beaten pickup truck in decent time, without Yaz's bad foot touching the ground once. 

"You alright, sugar?" Sierra asked as Sammy opened the back door for Yaz to climb in. 

"Probably sprained her ankle," Sammy replied, situating herself in the back seat beside Yaz. "It's bad, though, and it's not the first time. We should take her to get it checked."

"Urgent Care's not far. You wanna go, Yaz?"

"Yeah," Yaz said tightly. She leaned back against the seat, trying to focus on anything but the insistent throbbing. Sammy reached over to squeeze her hand, which provided as good as distraction as any. 

They were silent the entire ride, but about halfway through Sammy unbuckled her seatbelt to move to the middle seat, closer to Yaz, and put an arm around her. 

Getting inside the Urgent Care proved no great struggle with Sammy's help, and though the wait was longer than anyone would have liked, Yaz eventually got to see a doctor. 

Once an x-ray confirmed no fractures, the friendly doctor was happy to prescribe over the counter painkillers, a few weeks of rest, and one of those immobilizing boots so Yaz could still walk while she recovered. Yaz hoped that would be the end of it, but Sammy didn't seem so sure. 

"Did you tell them about the other times you hurt it?" she asked once everyone was situated in the car once more. 

"No," Yaz replied. "That was like, two years ago."

"Yeah, but it's still hurting you," Sammy insisted. "I know lots of people sprain their ankles running, you've been telling me how it aches for months now, and this is your second sprain."

Yaz bit down gently on the inside of her cheek. She didn't have the heart to tell Sammy it was actually something like her third. She'd never told anyone exactly what had transpired that awful night with the Scorpios, when she'd had no choice but to make a stupid, risky jump over moving water to find that life-saving antidote. When, tired and defeated, she'd stared certain death in the face and dared it to go ahead. 

"Well..." she had to take a moment to properly find her voice again. "The x-ray came back fine. I probably just need to stay off it for a little while."

And she did. For a little while. 

In the following weeks, Yaz was patient and refrained from anything that might strain her ankle. No running, with or without the boot, even though it was all she wanted to do. She did everything right in the hopes that when the boot finally came off, she could get back to doing what she loved. 

When she should have been clear to do so, Yaz resumed some light running. Just quick jaunts around the ranch, like she'd done over the summer. Something to fulfill her need for movement and help her get back into the swing of things before she went back to track. 

Except she never got that far. On her third run since ditching the boot, going at a pace so gentle compared to her normal level that she didn't expect to break a sweat at all, she heard a sharp pop and collapsed halfway through her first lap. 

Much later, she would realize Carmen had found her passed out by the fence, but in real time it was all just a blur of pain, confusion, and eventually panicked voices, up until she was already in the back of someone's car on the way to the ER. She'd been laid out across the back seat, her head resting on something soft and firm while a hand carded through her hair. 

"You're gonna be okay. It's gonna be okay, baby, we're almost there."

"Sammy...?" Looking up, Yaz found herself staring into a familiar, terrified eyes. 

"I'm here, Yaz," Sammy murmured, voice shaking. "I've got you."

"It hurts..." Yaz squeezed her eyes shut against oncoming tears. She could feel nothing but the searing pain, so much worse than any other time. Worse than the Mosasaurus Lagoon. Worse than leaping across the river. 

"I know." Sammy sounded close to tears as well. "I know, angel."

Hours blurred together once they made it to the hospital. At some point, Yaz was brought back into a room. People asked her questions she didn't remember answering. Something about an MRI. It all faded in and out of focus, the only constant Sammy's hand squeezing the life out of hers. 

Eventually, whatever pain meds they gave her kicked in, and it got easier to pay attention to her surroundings. Though, in all honesty, she would have rather stayed out of it than hear the news in store for her. 

She had completely dislocated her ankle, due in part to the fact that she'd started running again too soon after a bad sprain and in part to the fact that across the three sprains she'd stretched out and damaged her ligaments. Chronic ankle instability, they called it. A relatively bad case, too. The doctor that saw her reckoned that her first sprain hadn't healed correctly, and each subsequent injury only made her more susceptible. 

"Can I still run?" she asked desperately, though she knew the answer already. "I'm an athlete. I do track."

"I wouldn't recommend it. With your current condition, high-impact exercise almost guarantees repeated injuries."

And just like that, her entire world came crashing down. The doctor recommended physical therapy and a brace. Told her recreational running might not be out of the question if she gave herself time to heal and used proper joint support. But competitive track simply wasn't a sustainable option. She would have to quit. 

She held it together until the doctor left the room. Then, shocking herself as much as Sammy and Mr. Gutierrez in the room with her, she started laughing hysterically. 

"Yaz?!" Sammy's hand, which had barely left Yaz's grip this whole time, went to her shoulder. 

"I mean, why not, right?" Yaz cackled, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. "Might as well take this from me too."

"What?" Sammy exchanged a worried glance with her father. 

"Nublar took everything else from me," Yaz replied, bitterly yet still laughing uncontrollably. "My sponsor, my peace, the last of my childhood. Why wouldn't it take track from me too?"

"Oh, Yaz..." Sammy trailed off, perhaps knowing there was nothing she could possibly say to make this any better. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Yaz rubbed at her face. "It's not your fault. It's just... I thought I could finally just have my life back, but ever since we've been home... nothing is ever going to be the same, is it?" 

"We'll figure it out," Sammy promised. "You've still got me."

Yaz was sure she would appreciate that later, but right now... right now she was just tired. She'd finally managed to stop laughing and start crying in earnest. 

After everything she'd been through, was it really too much to ask that she could just be happy? All she wanted was a sense of normalcy; to wake up in the morning and go about her day and not think of Nublar once. But the place had left its mark on her. No matter what she did now, she would always know in the back of her mind that she was living some alternative to the future she should have had. 

Looking back, it was incredibly sad how she'd thought things would be okay if she could just get home. She understood now that surviving had only been half the battle, because there was no happy ending waiting for her after her perilous journey. There was no getting over it, no forgetting it, no picking up where she'd left off. There was only the next fight; to live with it, every day for the rest of her life. Accept what she'd lost and try to keep going regardless. 

Honestly, she was starting to think surviving had been the easy part. 

------

Thank you for reading! Chapters are tagged with the fic title for easy searching on my blog!

If you enjoyed, please consider reblogging or buying the writer a coffee!

[rubbish78]

idk how to explain what is happening tbh

[mcflythrills78]

Give me a straight explanation for this—

Yeah you can’t

[wistfulwatcher]

HACKS | 4.10 Heaven

[st-hedge]

*blends together interests and pours them out like a smoothie* yorha prototype raiden, once again! 😎

[eclectic-spaghetti]

(no text alt under the read more)

It takes weeks of planning, weeks of preparation, weeks of labor, and a really, really large oven, but when a Triumvirate is cooked and prepared and all laid out, it suddenly all feels worth it. The medley of the three types of fish, all individually unique and delicious in their own right, meld together to create a mix of flavors that is simply to die for.

Truly, a meal fit for the kings.

[post-it-notes7]

DMK I think mayhaps is he wants to leave, let him leave

too late for leaving now

[rollforjackass]

sometimes i wonder if all those times that john constantine allegedly appeared to his writers irl weren’t actually meant to be read by them as an endorsement of their talents or his personal acknowledgment of their influence in his life (the way i used to generally romanticize those stories to mean), but were maybe more intended as like…..a Straight-Up Threat. or, more charitably, as some kind of flying-too-close-to-the-sun warning. just because it’s funny to me to think how (almost) every writer who “encountered” him decided without question to fuck off posthaste, and equally funny to wonder how — assuming he actively chose to make himself known to them, rather than merely running into them on accident — constantine wouldn’t have seen that reaction coming from a mile away.

i mean, if anyone should know best about constantine’s penchant for bringing down disaster on anyone & everyone around him, it would be him and the people who officially contributed to enforcing that penchant, right? so it’d just be common sense for the intelligent, meta-aware fictional character to think: “if i — the living breathing embodiment of a rockfall zone caution sign — go up to the dudes who made me this way, they will probably (wisely) assume my presence indicates that they are now in higher-than-previous danger of being hit by falling rocks — a danger which will only increase the longer they stay within my immediate proximity — and they will surely feel compelled to bugger off accordingly.” at which point he could logically conclude that there are undoubtedly better, less-mortally-endangering methods of paying respects to his creators than popping out of a sandwich bar stairwell and scaring the shit out of alan moore.

(unless john thinks his writers would get just as much thrill from that kind of adrenaline rush as he does, given they thought to make him that way; which, tbh, i would not put past him to assume. or unless he simply does not care to expend all the extra energy on plotting a meticulously inoffensive approach just to tell someone ‘hi’, which i also would not put past him.)

as much of a shit as he can be, i can’t really picture john constantine making the conscious decision to put the fear of god into the writers who made him without a really good reason for it. he doesn’t believe in fate or destiny or anyone pulling his strings, so even if he didn’t like something they wrote, i figure he’d just set his mind to changing it rather than lending credence to the writers’ supposed influence over his life by taking his grievances up with them. so if constantine were running around the real world actively jumpscaring the people who are most likely to genuinely fear him, knowing they’re the people most likely to genuinely fear him, i can only imagine it being a choice he makes to jar his writers out of some complacent drift that’s been leading them over the line between fiction and forbidden knowledge; or something to that effect. a scare tactic, but a preventative one.

anyway, all this said to provide context for the entertaining mental image i had of constantine rocking up to some stranger’s party in 2009 all cool & confident, thrice-assured of his ability to rattle his writers just by showing his face, only to have to beat the hastiest of hasty retreats with fresh horror in his soul after notorious freak-shit woman-hating character-mangler peter milligan gets one good look at him and comes barreling down the pipe trying to ask what john thinks of the college-aged deviantart-emo wife.

[perhapsapremise]

also maybe this is just a vestige from getting really into the expanse at one point but I wish we knew a bit more about the human colonies outside of earth and what they were like.

I think it's kind of implied that b5 itself is actually one of the biggest? and I'm kind of intrigued by the idea that there are a lot of colonies that are like the scifi equivalent of really small towns. like what is it actually like to live/grow up there!! and like are they on planets with livable atmospheres or or is it like mars where everything is indoors? I kind of assume the latter but we really don't know

and we get a bit about mars but its mostly the political situation (though that itself is left pretty vague and I wish we had gotten more details on that too) and I really would like to know more about like the infrastructure and what day to day operation is actually like

but unlike in the expanse nearly all the prominent human characters are from earth iirc sinclair and marcus are the only ones who confirmedly aren't. and Sinclair is from mars but we don't hear anything about his experience growing up/living there. and we learn like nothing about the place marcus is from except that its 'a mining colony'. I would like to know more!!

[jammatown919]

Nowhere Left to Run

Yaz once believed things would be okay if she could just get off Isla Nublar. She knows better now.

Chapter Seven: Distance

By 22, Brooklynn was dead. Killed the way Yaz had feared they all would be; in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong dinosaur.

To say the remaining members of the Nublar Six took it hard was severely understating it. Everyone's lives ground to an immediate halt. No one could focus on anything else. No one could do anything else but sit on the phone with each other and try to talk through their tears.

Not long after it happened, the group all came separately to Northern California for the funeral. It was the first time in about two years they'd all been in the same room together, and it absolutely ate Yaz up inside. A meet-up like this should have been an occasion to celebrate. She hadn't even seen Darius or Kenji in person since the last one. They should have been laughing and basking in each other's presence, and yet it was all they could do to hold on to one another beside Brooklynn's empty casket.

Even then, they found it difficult to take on this tragedy as a group. Kenji barely spoke to anyone, and for some reason he and Darius seemed to be intentionally avoiding one another. Yaz spent most of the funeral clinging to Sammy and Ben.

Afterward, the group retired to Darius's cabin overnight, though Kenji neglected to come with them. No one liked it, but they didn't have the energy to argue with him.

It occurred to Yaz again as they pulled up in Darius's truck that this should have been part of a better occasion. Her first time at this cabin. Her first sleepover with her friends in so long. Instead, two of their group were missing, and the rest weren't up for much talking. They just microwaved leftovers that they didn't eat and went to bed.

The sleeping accommodations left much to be desired, though Yaz thought no one would have been comfortable regardless. She and Sammy settled down in the living room, on a reclining chair and the couch respectively, while Ben took a sleeping bag in Darius's room.

Yaz didn't see how any of them were going to sleep. She certainly couldn't, with the heaviness in her chest and the tears that burned her eyes at random intervals. Sammy hadn't even laid down yet, hugging her knees as she rested her forehead on them.

The first time they'd seen each other in months, and this was how they spent their time.

"I'd ask how you're holding up," Yaz murmured into the darkness of the room, "but it feels like kind of a stupid question."

Sammy sniffled loudly, and when she spoke, her voice was thick and strained.

"It feels like she was just at our place," she said.

It did, even though it had been six months ago. That was the last time either of them had seen Brooklynn, and the last time they ever would. Yaz squeezed her eyes shut at the thought, forcing out the tears that swam in them.

"She left her jacket," Sammy went on softly. "I found it after you left for school. Offered to mail back to her, but she said she'd just get it next time she came to visit."

Ouch.

"Where is it now?" Yaz asked.

"At home," Sammy replied. "I thought about bringing it and giving it to her parents, but... she asked me to take care of it for her. Feels like I should keep it. Is that selfish?"

"Nah." Yaz dragged a hand across her face, wiping away some of the moisture. "I think she'd want you to have it."

They fell into a brief silence, during which Yaz thought that might have been all they had in them for the night, but then Sammy cleared her throat.

"Did I hear you tell Ben you're leaving tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow night," Yaz said. "If I'm not too jet lagged, I might make it to class on Monday."

"Yaz, who cares about class right now?"

Yaz sat up to look at Sammy properly, though she couldn't see her expression in the dark.

"Our best friend just died." Sammy's voice broke in the middle of her sentence, but she continued regardless. "It's important for us to be together right now. Ben and I are staying a few more days, and I think you should too."

"Sammy..." In theory, she understood, though Yaz wasn't particularly keen on sitting around in this cabin when everyone could hardly bring themselves to speak to each other. And the thought of staying here, so close to where Brooklynn had been killed, for any longer than necessary made her skin crawl.

"Yaz, I haven't seen you at all since you left for school," Sammy insisted. "I just need to be near you right now."

Yaz sighed quietly. How could she say no to that?

"Alright," she murmured, laying back in defeat. "A few more days."

Yaz hoped Sammy would be satisfied with that, but apparently not. "Honestly, I was thinking... maybe you could take a break from school. Come home for a little while. They'll let you, won't they? Given the circumstances."

Yaz chewed gently on her lip as she contemplated her answer. She felt horrible, but she knew she couldn't go home yet. She was better, but not enough. She couldn't go back until she was completely confident in her ability to live in a world in which dinosaurs roamed, and after Brooklynn, she didn't know when that would be.

Right now, she had a pass to be a mess. They all did. But the second she got nervous about being away from her safe place, it would single her out. Sammy would start focusing on her anxiety again. Start trying to coddle her again. It would be counterproductive for both of them.

"I don't think I can do that right now," she said. Not a lie, and not the whole truth.

"Yaz..." Yaz refused to look up despite the darkness hindering her vision, because if she saw even a hint of the huge, wet eyes she knew were staring at her right now, she would cave immediately.

"I'm sorry, Sammy."

"Yaz, I miss you."

God, why did she have to make this so difficult? It wasn't like Yaz wanted this degree of separation. It was just what they both needed. Just for a little while longer. Just until Sammy wouldn't have to worry about her anymore.

"I miss you too," she replied tightly. "But we have the next few days. We'll make the most of it."

"Why don't you want to come home?" The question started out harsher; more of a demand than anything. Then it lost most of its momentum halfway through and became pleading and painful to hear.

Stop it, Yaz thought desperately. I'm doing this for us.

"It's just not a good time with school. I know... I know what just happened, but nothing I do can change that. I can either be sad and fall behind or be sad and keep going."

"You don't have to be strong right now. None of us do. It's okay to need each other."

I've needed you every second of every day for a year, Yaz's mind whispered. Enough is enough.

"I can't right now." To emphasize that she was done talking about it, Yaz rolled over in the chair so that she faced a nearby wall instead of the rest of the room. "Goodnight, Sammy."

She expected more resistance. More pleading, more tests of her resolve. She wouldn't have been surprised if Sammy stood up and marched over so that Yaz wouldn't be able to ignore her. Maybe if she did, Yaz would break. Maybe they would go home to Texas together, and they'd see how founded Yaz's concerns really were. Maybe they would be fine, or maybe Yaz was right and she would continue to bog down their relationship with her anxiety and neediness.

But it seemed Sammy didn't have any fight left in her. She didn't argue. She didn't even sound like she was crying anymore. Instead, she whispered one thing, dull and tired in a way that kind of made Yaz wish she had just agreed from the jump, but it was too late now.

"Goodnight, Yaz."

------

Thank you for reading! Chapters are tagged with the fic title for easy searching on my blog!

If you enjoyed, please consider reblogging or buying the writer a coffee!

[meltingrex]

tiktok getting banned so im posting here💔

[r0semultiverse]

The whole Lila & Five season 4 situation can be summarized by this tumblr post

[roots-symphony]

do you think the reason agatha’s trial felt weird is because she was the only one who did not actually buy into the mythos of the road since she knew the truth? like that was why no perspective change and all the other reasons why people thought it was a fake trial

[jammatown919]

Nowhere Left to Run

Yaz once believed things would be okay if she could just get off Isla Nublar. She knows better now.

Chapter Six: One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

The year as a whole was probably one of Yaz's worst, which was really saying something.

Following the Carnotaurus incident, Yaz spent the better part of a week in genuine shock. She hardly spoke, hardly left her and Sammy's bedroom, couldn't bring herself to keep up with DPW alerts as officers tracked the Carnotaurus farther and farther from where it had nearly killed her.

News of its capture gave her little comfort. Maybe this particular dinosaur no longer posed a threat to her, but there would be another. There was always another.

Every attempt to step outside yielded worse and worse results. Tears, hyperventilating, an absolute certainty that she could hear something roaring in the distance despite Sammy's frequent reassurances that there was nothing there. She couldn't go to work, couldn't take care of her responsibilities around the ranch, couldn't even go see Bumpy or the other animals.

Sammy didn't push her. Ever patient and gentle, she spent significant time indoors with Yaz, took several days off from work to be with her, and handled every outdoor chore by herself without a word of complaint.

As time went on, Sammy returned to work and Yaz did not. Despite her best efforts, she couldn't leave the house, much less even think about going anywhere. She tried every morning, exhausted every excuse she could think of to buy herself one more day of absence, but she just couldn't do it. Eventually, her boss had enough of it, and she was told via text that her presence at the bookstore was no longer needed.

That made things significantly worse. With nothing to even try to leave the house for, Yaz spent a lot of time in between virtual therapy sessions doing literally nothing. Sammy often found her sitting somewhere, usually hidden under a blanket or behind a piece of furniture, crying silently.

When Sammy was home, Yaz spent every second she could glued to her side. When she wasn't, Yaz went around the entire house checking that everything was locked and every window was covered, then laid completely still in bed for hours until the front door opened.

She didn't sleep soundly for months. Every night, at least once but usually more, she woke up in a cold sweat. Sometimes she would just be crying, and she'd lay there quietly and try to forget everything she'd seen behind her eyes. Other times, she would jolt upright screaming and wake up Sammy, who would commit to soothing her back to sleep no matter how long it took.

Above everything else, Yaz felt horrible about how much time and energy Sammy put into taking care of her. She was visibly exhausted day after day, handling everything around the ranch, going to work, and coming home to a girlfriend who could barely function.

Seeing this, and with urging from her therapist, Yaz tried to commit to at least seeming better.

At first, there wasn't much she could do, but she tried. She tried not to be in bed when Sammy came home so it wouldn't look like she hadn't moved in hours, even if that was true and she'd only gotten up ten minutes prior. She tried to take care of more household tasks so she could take at least something off of Sammy's plate, even if she couldn't stand to walk by the windows and got nervous when anything she did made noise. She start drawing more and dusted off that crochet scarf they'd started years ago and hadn't touched in a while so she could at least pretend to be engaging in hobbies again.

Sammy seemed to be happy with the progress, and that made it easier to keep going. They began passing the scarf back and forth again, building on top of each other to form weird patterns. Yaz started having fun with her art again. She gradually thought about it less when she walked by a window or did anything that made noise and might make it hard to hear if something was approaching the house.

The nightmares didn't necessarily slow down, but her reactions to them became less intense. It got easier to go back to sleep without Sammy's help, and to stay asleep once she did.

Eventually, after several months indoors and a long, hard fight with herself, Yaz started trying to go outside again. She didn't get much of anywhere at first, but once Sammy realized what she was doing, she helped Yaz work up to stepping onto the porch arm in arm.

From there, they spent a lot of time on the porch. Yaz couldn't yet bring herself to get too far from the door, lest something happen and she need to quickly run back inside for shelter, so Sammy began bringing the animals to her. Every morning, she stood on the porch steps and brushed the horses, eventually managing to venture a few steps further for easier access to them.

Bumpy came to the porch a lot too, though it took Yaz a little while to get comfortable with her again. She hated herself for it, because Bumpy had saved her life and always been a good friend, but proximity to a dinosaur inherently put her on edge. Bumpy didn't seem to mind, waiting patiently until Yaz could work up the nerve to feed her a handful of berries. It got easier to touch her after that, and Yaz made sure to pet her each day to ensure she remained as comfortable as she could with her savior.

With time and effort, Yaz ventured farther and farther into the ranch until she somewhat regained her ability to move around without fear, provided Sammy was with her and they didn't hang around by the fences for too long.

Through the entire process, Sammy was nothing but kind, patient, and supportive. She didn't push Yaz's limits, never forced her into anything, always stood by her side as she did things in her own time. However, as Yaz's recovery progressed inch by inch, she began to notice something odd. While Yaz put all of her energy into trying to resume normalcy as fast as possible, Sammy seemed to want her to slow down.

When Yaz was ready to try walking around the ranch on her own, Sammy didn't let her. She insisted on being there for every step away from the house. When Yaz asked for moral support to try stepping outside of the ranch, Sammy seemed initially receptive and then repeatedly put it off. There were times she genuinely seemed more anxious than Yaz, and more than one occasion in which Yaz was psyched out of taking the next step not by her own fears but by Sammy reinforcing them.

Yaz thought it was in her head at first, but as it happened more and more, she realized it wasn't going to stop until she said something.

"Should I go out by myself tomorrow?" she asked one night as Sammy was climbing into bed beside her. She hadn't even really meant to say it, but she couldn't stop thinking about today being the third in a row in which Sammy had explicitly agreed to take a walk beyond the fence with her and stalled until dark.

"What?" Sammy stared down at her, still sitting up as Yaz rested against a pillow. "Sweetie, I'm not so sure that's a good idea."

"It's just that you keep saying you'll go with me and it just... doesn't happen," Yaz murmured.

"Honey..." Sammy laid down beside her so that they were almost nose-to-nose. "I'm sorry. I got distracted. We'll go tomorrow, okay?"

"You don't want to," Yaz said flatly. Sammy's brow furrowed in response. "You don't. It's okay, Sammy. You've been holding my hand this entire time, and I know it hasn't been easy for you. Maybe it'll be better for both of us if I start trying to be on my own again."

"Yaz." Sammy's voice became mildly more serious as she propped herself up a bit. "There will never, ever be a time when I don't want to be there for you. I want to help you in any way I can. I'm just..." She wavered for a moment. "I'm scared too."

Yaz wanted to kick herself. How selfish could she be? All these months, she'd been leaning on Sammy for everything, hardly considering that she wasn't the only one with dinosaur trauma. Of course Sammy would be afraid. Of course she would also be reluctant to leave their safe, familiar place.

"Sam..." Her hand slowly moved across the top of the blankets, reaching for Sammy's. "Believe me, I know how terrifying all of this is-"

"It's not that." Sammy turned onto her back and leaned against the headboard with a sigh. "I don't want to put this on you, because it's not your fault and I know how much you're struggling, but... do you know what it was like for me when you came back that day? I had no idea you even left. All I knew was that I woke up and I couldn't find you. Then I heard it, and by the time I got there Bumpy was running through the gate and you were just... you were hysterical. For a week, you were completely out of it. You wouldn't eat, you wouldn't talk to me. I'm not sure you even remember it. You just weren't there."

Yaz watched as tears began to well up in her eyes and felt a matching sting in her own.

"And it was hardly better after that. I'd come home and find you hiding in closets. You would sit there for hours and just cry. For the longest time, I felt like I lost you." Despite her gentle tone, Sammy wiped at her face rather aggressively, like she was angry at her tears for existing. "Now, you finally are getting better. It's not perfect, but I have you back. I just don't want to move too fast and risk undoing all the progress you've already made. I'm scared I won't get you back next time."

Hearing this, Yaz realized for the first time just how much her helplessness had damaged her relationship. How her unwellness had changed Sammy's perception of her from someone strong and confident to someone fragile who could never be trusted to take care of herself again.

She needed to fix that. As fast as possible.

"I'm sorry, Sammy," she said. "I know these past few months have been rough. But this is what I need to do to get better."

"I know..."

Yaz gave Sammy's hand a gentle squeeze.

"I won't fall apart on you again. I promise."

They didn't talk about it again after that. They went to sleep quickly, and the next morning Sammy took Yaz for a walk down the road. Admittedly, the quick outing was stressful, but Yaz did her best to appear calm so that Sammy wouldn't be concerned.

In the following weeks, whenever she was feeling especially anxious, she waited for Sammy to leave the house and called Ben or Brooklynn to talk about it instead. She made an effort to leave the house without Sammy more often, even if she could only manage going to the barn and back. At one point, though she knew she was probably a long way off from being able to do it, started looking at jobs and college programs online so she could at least pretend she saw a future for herself in which she didn't spend the majority of her time hiding indoors.

One thing in particular caught her eye as she absently clicked through options; a man-made island in Wyoming that was supposedly completely dinosaur-free, meant to help those who had been traumatized by dinosaurs heal from their experiences so that they could eventually rejoin society. There was even a university right there, specializing in psychology. Yaz bookmarked it for later, just in case she ever decided to look into it more.

As time went on, Yaz began trying to leave the ranch on her own, which Sammy wasn't particularly happy about. She insisted on being there, on holding Yaz's hand through everything, even when Yaz felt that she needed to hold herself up for once. Part of her considered going for walks in secret when Sammy was at work, but the ever-present thought of running into danger on her own kept her from doing so. If she saw another dinosaur out there and came back shell-shocked again... she couldn't do that to Sammy.

With nowhere else to put this concern, she ended up voicing it to Brooklynn, who readily got to work providing her with a solution. Dinosaur immersion therapy, offered for a relatively low price only thirty minutes from the ranch. At first, Yaz wanted to ask Sammy to go with her, but then she thought that it might be counterproductive to bring someone just as nervous as her. So instead, she invited Brooklynn to come visit for a little while so they could make a day of it.

She didn't tell Sammy where they were going. Only that Brooklynn was set to arrive in the middle of the work day and that Yaz would get her settled in the guest room. While Sammy was still out at the stables, the two of them drove the half hour to the therapy location. During the car ride, Yaz told Brooklynn about the college program in Wyoming, which she was beginning to consider a bit more seriously. Brooklynn didn't judge or ask questions; she just acted as a sounding board to help Yaz figure out the logistics.

By the time they got there, Yaz had more or less made up her mind. Talking about it on the return trip only solidified her plan.

She waited until Brooklynn left to tell Sammy, for the purpose of having a nice visit. When they did get around to having that conversation, it went about as well as Yaz expected.

"You want to go to Wyoming?!"

Sammy stared incredulously at the printed out pamphlet for the school Yaz had handed her.

"It's a great psychology program," she replied calmly. "They'll take the credits I already have, and if I do it right, I'll graduate in two years. I can use the money my mom got from Jurassic World."

"All that's great, but how are you going to go to school in another state when you can barely get down the driveway?" Sammy asked desperately.

"You realize that's why I'm going, right?" Yaz put a gentle hand on Sammy's arm. "I'm not going to get better if I don't push myself. I have to take the plunge."

"Isn't there any place closer? The college you used to go to is only forty minutes away. You were already studying psychology there. I can drive you and-"

"Sammy," Yaz murmured, "you've done enough for me. I have to do this for myself. This is a safe environment where I can learn to be self-sufficient again."

"Yaz, it's okay to rely on me." Sammy drew her in closer, looping an arm around her back in a loose hug.

"I know," Yaz said. "But I can't be the person I want to be if I can't rely on myself. I want to be someone you can rely on. I'm sick of needing help with everything. I have to do this."

"You can start smaller. What if you need me out there?"

"I've made up my mind. The best thing you can do for me right now is let me go."

Sammy's eyes shone with tears. Yaz reached up to wipe them away.

"It's not forever, Sam," she said gently.

"When are you leaving?"

"Not for a while. I still have to get some things in order. I just wanted you to know."

The hug tightened, and Sammy pressed her chin to Yaz's shoulder.

"I love you so much," she said softly. "Hurry back."

"I love you too." Yaz melted into her girl's embrace. "It won't even feel like that long. I'll come home for breaks. You'll see me all the time."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

------

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[the-korova]

My neighbor installed a new hvac fan type thing outside recently and I am still not used to it so I’m trying to have a midnight smoke on the back ally and my one eyed, myopic, astigmatic ass is just squinting into the darkness, looking for whoever is responsible for the repetitive squeaky scraping noise, fully expecting to be murdered by The Hash Slinging Slasher.

[bangcakes]

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