Transplanted Life
Tuesday, April 20, 2004
 
People supporting me
It's funny... I've been spending so much of the last week trying to prop Carter up that it's possible to almost forget that I had a gun pointed at me, too. And while the folks at work think there's a degree of seperation between them and Sam - right now, the only outsiders who know that "Sam" is really Carter are Maggie and Kate's lawyer friend, and I doubt Doug believes me - they know me, and apparently it's not just Kate and Jen who are fond of me.

My desk was covered with flowers. All different kinds; apparently, there's not a specific "we're so glad you didn't get shot" bouquet, so everyone just tried to guess what I liked. Kate and Jen knew better and got me chocolate.

But that's not all. Everyone wanted to shake my hand, and had nothing but kind words about how, after all I went through, I was being so supportive of "Sam". It's enough to give me quite the swelled head, honestly. It's easy to say, well, if I didn't help out I'd just collapse myself, but it just sounds so fake, no matter how true it might be.

Maureen hugged me. She hugged me and said she missed me and was sorry she'd been mean to me before. When I said she was just glad that she didn't have to cover for me any more, trying to lighten the mood a little, she tightened her grip and started crying. It was really awkward; I didn't know what to do until the phone started ringing and I told her I had to get it. She went to the ladies' room to clean up and I was relieved to get back to work.

And it was a madhouse. Dmitri and Carter had both been on two or three projects, and now practically everyone involved with those projects wanted to be connected with the new people assigned to them, or to their supervisors, et cetera. Since a lot of them were government projects, that's a lot of layers of bureaucracy. Several called back multiple times, then there were folks at the temp and employment agencies the HR people were talking to to try and get some bodies in to pick up the slack.

Oh, and the reporters. They'd been calling my home, too, but upon learning that one of the "intended victims" had been the receptionist at the firm where both perp and victim worked, they had been calling BioSoft pretty much constantly since last Tuesday in hopes of finding me. Now that they had, no amount of "no comments" would hold them off. Maureen had to back me up, the phones were that lit up.

Finally, the day came to an end, and I headed back to Carter's hospital room. He was at least up and walking around some, but was very unsteady on his new feet. He had absolutely no idea how he had gotten from the self-storage place to his old apartment to my place; now that the adrenaline was gone, he felt like he was being hit with an insane double-whammy of atrophied limbs and unfamiliar proportions.

I told him it was okay, that once he stopped thinking about it, he'd realize that the part of Sam's brain that knew how to walk could do its thing without being micromanaged. He didn't like the idea that there was stuff in his new brain that was basically holdover from the body's previous owner(s), or really being reminded that he was "thinking with a new brain", but he supposed he'd have to get used to the idea, since there was a big hole in his original brain.

Walking around the hospital floor pooped him out - even though he was back on solid food, Sam's stomach had shrunk during the ordeal - so he was back in bed and dozing off by the time Janet Haskins got back from her supper. I told him I'd be back tomorrow, then came back here.

Reading this, I wonder how the hell I am holding it together. I mean, I've never been one to panic, but the events of the past year - I break up with Maggie because I think she might be pregnant, I lose my job, I get a new one that means moving across the country, but instead I wind up in some girl's body, I sleep with my best friend, I find out that the situation is more complicated than I think, I start going out with a guy on my own accord, I find out I'm being drugged into liking this guy, I find out he's not who he says he is, I nearly get shot, the guy I'd actually liked gets stuck in a girl's body too...

Seriously, is Michelle's brain missing the part that panics?

-Marta
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Note: This blog is a work of fantasy; all characters are either ficticious or used ficticiously. The author may be contacted at JaySeaver@comcast.net