fandomhighdorms | The Range [Sunday afternoon]

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The Range [Sunday afternoon]

Triela had slept terribly again. She kept waking up to imagine sounds, and whenever she closed her eyes there where odd images waiting for her. It was very disconcerting, and it was taking its toll on her, too.

Someone didn't know what it was to dream.

So she was at the range. It always helped her relax. Except that now that she was there, and had her weapon laid out and ready, she found that she was feeling a bit dizzy. She knew you should never handle a gun if you weren't in full control of yourself, but she'd never been anything but, so she wasn't exactly sure what to do.

She was standing there, frowning at the shotgun as if it was somehow responsible for the tiny little termors that were running through her body.

[Open!]

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Disturbed, but trying not to show it, Scully asked, "No records of your birth?" She paused and added, "Does Triela mean something specific?"

Triela snorted. Mostly because the idea was amusing.

"Slavers don't tend to keep records of who it is they've got, so there was no one to ask when the Agency found me." Well, that and they'd all been shot.

"And, no, it's just a name." To help her blend in with normal people.

"Oh," Scully said very quietly. "I see." And she did. She hadn't been in the organized crime unit, but she'd still had to deal with enough bodies left from their crimes-- including children-- that she had a very good idea of what Triela was alluding to.

And Hilshire had found her, and named her Triela, and she appeared to be completely recovered now. It was impressive. In tribute to that, Scully merely asked, "How old were you?"

Another snort. "They don't keep records of that sort of thing, either, you know."

She shrugged. "But around twelve. Maybe thirteen."

"You don't remember?" Or had she been a captive her entire life? And maybe that was a step too far. Scully shook her head. "Forgive me. I'm being too curious. Forget I asked that."

Triela waved it away. The gesture came with only a slight hesitation. "No problem. I just don't remember."

Which would explain why she could talk about it with such equanimity, without prompting, to someone she barely knew. Scully nodded, backing up to the mention of Hilshire. "So Hilshire sent you here, instead of working?" At least someone was looking out for her.

"Supplemental training," Triela explained with a scowl. "To learn how to fit in if I need to go undercover or anything."

Which was fine, but she hadn't been on a mission in forever, and it was driving her crazy.

"Ah." Well, wasn't she here for nearly the same reason? Camouflage? Scully grimaced. "And we're back to 'wishing to be elsewhere.'"

"All the time," Triela groused, a bit more vehemently than she meant to.

Scully gave her a curious look, and said, "Does Hilshire know? And is it helping, the learning to blend in?"

"Of course he knows," Triela snapped.

Not that she'd ever talked with him about it. He was just supposed to know. That was his job.

"Uh-hunh." Scully could be forgiven her doubt, given Triela's level of defensiveness; then again, maybe Triela was pissed that her handler had ignored her wishes. "Sorry. That... sucks."

She took time to shoot again, a full clip, and thinking that maybe this was it, the source of Triela's sense of being 'off.'

It could be, right?

Totally could be. Triela wasn't good with inaction, after all.

"Tell me about it." Triela shot an angry glare at her shotgun.

Which thoroughly didn't deserve it, but was clearly the safest target. Scully considered, and said, "More shooting?"

"More shooting," Triela agreed with a growl as she started shoving shells into the shotgun.

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The Range [Sunday afternoon]

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