Chapter Text
Breathe - Chapter One
Sunday December 7, 2026 - 930am
Zion Apartment Tower, near NorthTown Mall
Yasmina hates running through this apartment. It's too small in here, cramped, her movement confined. It feels less like running and more like moving quickly followed by a lot of crashing, along with bruised hips and elbows.
Check on the island. Nope. Check in the fridge. Nope.
"How did I lose my Powerade?!" Yasmina bellows, getting off the floor with her right arm absentmindedly. The move sends a jolt of pain through her arm, and she gasps. "Ow!"
The Chihuahua and the German Shepherd in the next apartment hear her and begin barking in an agitated response.
Sammy, coming in from down the hall, appears behind Yasmina and plants her hands on her shoulders. Gently she whirls the taller woman around to face her. Hazel eyes stare up into darker brown ones, a soft smile on Sammy's face. Yasmina feels at ease instantly.
"Calm down mi amor," Sammy says. "Breeeeaaaathe." She slowly lowers a hand to Yasmina's chest, stopping just before contact. Yasmina takes a shaky breath, and then another. The smile on Sammy's face is so contagious, soon Yaz has one of her own.
Sammy nods slowly. "Now where did you last see it?"
Yasmina tries to turn her head to look, but Sammy forces her head back to her to maintain eye contact.
"I, um, in the fridge," Yasmina stammers. "But it isn't in there, I just checked."
"Are you sure?" Sammy inquires, moving to the fridge to look for it herself. She shifts objects around, checking thoroughly, just to ensure it hasn't been overlooked. After a few seconds she walks back to the living room defeated.
Yasmina throws up her hands. "Looking for something blue in a room full of blue!" gesturing to their light blue apartment walls. "That's just great."
Sammy chuckles. "Yaz, those are two different shades of blue."
Yasmina playfully covers Sammy's mouth with her hands from behind. "Shh. Just let me have my moment of anxiety."
Sammy mumbles something and then licks Yasmina's hands. "Aw! Damn, that's gross! Come here!"
Sammy laughs and runs to the bedroom as Yaz chases after her. Sammy collapses on the bed while Yaz smears her hand on her face. "Yeah, get that slobber in there real good!"
Sammy says, "Hey, you like my slobber!"
"When you say it like that it's even worse!" Yasmina backs off with a smirk, allowing Sammy to get up. Sammy's smile falls away slowly, as does Yasmina's.
Sammy hugs her wife, laying her head on the slope of her wife's chest and closing her eyes, listening to her heartbeat which was fast and thready. "I know what you're doing," Sammy murmurs gently. "You're stalling so we don't have to go too soon, but we're practically down to just the condiments, and I need to get those pictures printed."
Yasmina's anxiety flares briefly, suppressed quickly by the feel of Sammy's skin on hers, as Sammy trails her fingers down the back of her arm.
"Okay," Yaz whispers, silently hating herself for being such a burden to her wife. "I trust you."
Sammy nods, her head still plastered to Yasmina's chest. "I know you do. That's why you asked me to marry you." Her heart sinking, she wishes she could magically remove all of her wife's fears and anxieties. Sammy inhales deeply, taking in her scent. "Oh you smell good!"
Yasmina looks down at the top of her head. "Seriously? You like the smell of human sweat?" Her remarks drip with sarcasm.
Sammy chortles. "Only when it's you're sweat!"
She peels her head away, pursing up her lips, which Yaz gladly pecks with her own lips.
"It's gonna be okay," Sammy says softly. "We won't be there that long, and you can get some more Powerade while we're there."
Yasmina chuckles softly.
"See?" Sammy says happily. "Silver lining."
Sunday December 7, 2026 - 940am
Blue Point Apartments, Wandermere
Two-hundred names one one list, two-hundred on the other. All damn morning Darius has sat with a blue highlighter. Calling their families and verifying their safety. It is painfully ironic, but he cannot find any other colors no matter how hard he had looked. Besides, time is of the essence.
His eyes are beginning to cross. With a heavy heart, Darius had only crossed fifty names off of the list, almost all of them unfamiliar, but at this point they were all starting to run together.
Richard Corinth. Jasmine Selling. Whitney Branna. Jacob Soren.
Who even has the surname "Corinth"? It sounds like something somebody came up with to spite their parents.
In the kitchen he can hear his fiance searching for something, breaking his focus for only a second. With determination he forces himself to keep eyeing the page, surprised at how many women turned out for the protest. Damn he was glad Brooklynn couldn't read minds, she'd have flicked him on the ear for thinking something so misogynistic, probably asking him why women shouldn't have shown up.
Janice Lynn. Ariana Lewiston. Maria Clarkston. Brandon Velos.
Sweat hits his eye as he compares the names to the numbers he's found in the white pages. They'd been making calls off and on since the butchered protest. Good Samaritans had crawled from the woodwork after their monumental failure, attorneys offering to represent the arrested protesters pro bono or at a drastically discounted rate. Churches and other religious organizations had come together to raise funds for bail, medical expenses, and … funeral costs. Darius and Brooklynn found themselves once more at the epicenter as these groups reached out to them in hopes of locating the individuals in need.
Kenji Pincus. Delores Ramirez. Mariah Jackburns.
Darius reads on.
I'm getting ahead of himself, he thinks, trying to compile lists and divide them between which people could use assistance from which charities.
Closing his eyes, he furiously digs his fingertips into them, trying to wipe them clear of sweat.
Heart fluttering, he swivels the chair and stands.
"I need a break," he tells himself.
He grabs the remote and turns the television on. Immediately he gets blasted with commercials for things he doesn't care about as he collapses onto the sofa.
Up.
Car commercial.
Up. Pearl Harbor documentary.
Up. Kids' show. Up.
Flames.
His finger applies pressure to the channel-up button with intent, but releases.
Flames on TV. Flames in a city. Flames in the road. People in the road.
His breath catches in his throat, and he is on his feet in an instant.
Another live protest. More police violence. This time, enough to anger the protesters into setting their city ablaze.
"All those people," he breathes.
Brooklynn hears him mumbling something. "What did you say my love?" she asks, walking up behind him.
Brooklynn catches a glimpse of the TV and gasps. She tries to get his attention by throwing one of her small stuffed animals at him, but it bounces off his back with no reaction from the man. She can see him gripping his left arm with his right hand absent-mindedly.
"Oh no no no no! Hey Darius, look at me!"
Brooklynn moves in front of him. His eyes are closed, his face dripping with sweat.
"Darius!" She pats his face softly, breaking him out of his flashback violently. He falls backwards screaming, limbs flailing. This earns a similar reaction from the woman who shrieks, hands covering her mouth.
Their eyes on each other in recognition, Darius silently pleads for comfort.
Brooklynn crawls over to him, taking the remote and changing the channel one more time, before throwing it over her shoulder to avoid any more mishaps. She cups her husband's face in her hands. "Hey! Look at me. You're okay. I'm here."
Darius sniffles and buries his face into her shoulder. "I killed that man," he sobs. "I killed all four of those poor people. Oh god, all those people in the hospital! Brooklynn, what have I done?"
"Oh Darius," she sighs. She pulls him closer as he begins to sob harder, smoothing a hand over his hair. "This isn't your fault. You saved hundreds of people. Oh honey it's okay. Everything's going to be alright."
"None of them would have been there in the first place if it wasn't for me!" Darius whimpers.
"Us, if it wasn't for us. We're in this together, remember? For better or worse, ceremony or no ceremony." She can feel tears stinging her eyes but she forces herself to remain calm. As much as his suffering breaks her heart, mirroring her own lingering anguish from that day, she must stay calm. She gently shushes him, rocking him in her arms on the floor. Besides, if anyone was to blame it was those monsters in blue.
As he sinks into shuddering sniffles, Brooklynn looks over her shoulder again. The TV says something vague about somebody being hospitalized. Her curiosity piqued, she reads the scrolling words on the bottom.
<Beloved preschool teacher remains in coma at SHMC after violent Spokane protests>
Brooklynn winces at that. She'll have to look into that later, but right now Darius needs her.
10am
Division Street and Lincoln Road
Northbound through the cold, cruising in the middle lane, rain on the windshield, and small wet heaps of snow beginning to cling to the ground. Sammy drives their 2019 Nissan Altima, with Yasmina in the passenger seat, both watching the white SUV in front of them intently. A while ago it had careened in front of her, then was weaving between all three lanes, at times even using the center turn lane as a driving lane.
A reckless driver, maybe even drunk, Sammy thinks scornfully.
"Where did she even learn how to drive?" Sammy muses.
"I'm a firm believer that bad drivers were just given a copy of Grand Theft Auto Six and then told not to drive like that," Yasmina says. Sammy suppresses her laugh.
"You think I'm kidding, look, all these cars in front of her, she's gonna use the CTL again."
The SUV in front of them stays in the right lane, for once.
"Right now," Yasmina guesses. Sammy raises an eyebrow.
"You seriously think she's gonna do it now that we're watchin'?" Sammy quips. Yasmina mumbles in defense, keeping her eyes on the SUV. Suddenly it whips around the cars in the two left lanes, using the CTL as a travel lane to get around them, just as Yasmina had predicted it would.
"BOOOOOOM!" Yasmina yells in triumph, her face inches from Sammy's.
"You're just mad because she has a bigger car," Sammy jokes. Yasmina scoffs.
"This car's dope, why would I be mad?"
Sammy taps the shopping list on the dashboard. There are a handful of items on it, only the essentials, she can go out on her own later she thinks. "We're gettin' close. We don't need that much, but I do have to get those photos for my boss." Under her breath she mutters "I don't know why he couldn't do that himself, but whatever."
Yasmina tries not to think about her anxiety welling up within her. She turns the radio on, gasping when she hears the song, "Cold" by Maroon Five. She faces Sammy happily.
"My favorite song!" she squeals as she cranks up the volume.
Sammy can't resist Yasmina's gleeful smiles. "Sure, go ahead blow my speakers." she winks with mock annoyance.
They had come up with a scale to measure how much they like a particular song. Five levels.
Level One, I love this song!
Level Two, I like this song.
Level Three, meh.
Level Four, I don't like this song but I can tolerate it for you.
Level Five, I hate it, please skip it.
This song carries a Level Three for Sammy and a Level One for Yasmina.
Sammy has her reasons for being impartial to the song, despite its beat and good lyrics. It reminds her of her betrayal of Yasmina from all those years back. She doesn't like dwelling on that, mostly because she knows Yasmina is still dealing with the fallout, and has nightmares of Sammy doing the same thing to her. She is always devastated. No matter how many times Yaz has the nightmare, it's always crippling to her for at least a day. Maybe Sammy would be able to forget and move on, if only Yaz could quit beating herself up and just let it go.
Sammy is broken out of her thoughts by Yasmina's wild singing and bouncing along to the music.
"Coooold enough to chill my boooones, it feels like I don't know you anymoooore! Come on Sammy!"
Sammy resists, but her smile grows the longer Yaz keeps singing.
"I don't understand why you're so coooold to me, with every breeeath you breathe, I see there's something going oooonn!"
The green sign above them points them towards the Newport Highway.
"I don't understand why you're so coooold, yeah!"
Sammy knows this ecstatic mode from Yasmina will end soon, so she lets her have her fun while it lasts.
Music in this chapter
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