DO NO HARM

FULL STATS & BIO // INSPIRATION // VISAGE 

+ mara.

15TH OF JULY. OUTSIDE THE WALLS. @maraxsinclair​

In the days that follow the outbreak, novelties like peace evade the confines of Idaho Falls. Between murderers, dictators, and the infected, there always seems to be a new threat staring Teddy and his family in the face. The horror of the outbreak serves as a wakeup call, a reminder that any incendiary actions or sparks of rebellion that may form are useless if they all become infected. In the aftermath, they would all do well to remember that.

Sent out to patrol the perimeter of the QZ ( his shift still on the schedule despite the sudden, unaccounted absence of his assigned partner ), Teddy sees this as an unprecedented opportunity. He invites Mara to join him on his route outside the walls, and lets their quiet walk together through the trees remind him of Boston, of simpler times. As they pass a thicket of larkspur, the path ahead of them lies still, no danger in sight or earshot. For some time, Teddy’s able to pretend it’s just the two of them in this whole wide world, and so he lets go of Mara’s hand to kneel down and pluck a few of the purple flowers. 

“For my Mara,” he says sweetly, presenting her with a bouquet of the wildflowers before them.  Things as frivolous as gifts and celebration are rare in a world as cruel as theirs, but Teddy still loves the way this small act lights up Mara’s face. “Maybe we can trade some venison jerky for a bottle of potato vodka to go with that.” It’s not quite as romantic as a bottle of merlot, but it would have to do, considering the circumstances. Teddy supposes that soon enough, they’ll be trading venison jerky for everything, relying on their contraband as a means of survival. His hand lingers on Mara’s waist, holding her close to him. “When’s the last time you and I had a proper date, anyway?” What is a proper date these days, when times like these are so precious?

•

The world is falling apart around them but that’s nothing new. Not anymore. Mara and Teddy have been through so much together and apart, that even in the midst of the chaos, they can find moments of peace together. Together. After so long holding that candle of hope in her heart, they’re together again. Their family reunited against all odds and Mara holds space for that despite the outbreak, despite the confessions and the curfews and Alexei’s hold tightening. 

When Teddy invites her on his patrol, she doesn’t hesitate to say yes. She’d rather spend time with him than sit idly during daylight hours. Even when she’s got night shift, she finds it hard to sleep with all the activity around her from inside and out of the hotel. They walk in companionable silence for a bit, the chirp of a stray bird here and there, the soft rustle of grass underfoot, all reminding her of a time before they were separated. When he was her biggest concern and focus, before Felix made them a family. 

She can’t help the soft smile that tugs at her lips at the flowers, accepting with a growing grin. “Oh yes. Though, I’m afraid I’m not as young as I used to be, Teddy. A few sips of that stuff and I’ll be knocked out,” she laughs before bringing the flowers to her nose. They smell fresh and untouched. Calming, almost. Just like him. He’s always made her feel steady. Even now. She leans in, pressing a kiss to his cheek, “All things considered, my love, this is a perfect date.” Better than a proper one, the memory of couples at restaurants or walking hand-in-hand down the sidewalks of Boston a distant memory now. A teasing smile forms as she cups his cheek with her hand. “Besides, I can’t remember the last time someone’s brought me flowers.” Her heart had only ever been his. 

There’s a restlessness running through Idaho Falls in the wake of the latest in a seemingly never-ending line of tragedies. With just a few words, Alexei turns people on each other, using their desperation as two weeks’ worth of entertainment. Zahra wonders if she’d be one of the numerous people fighting tooth and nail for the chance at the enforcer role if she wasn’t one already. It’s not really a question; she knows the answer is yes. Being an enforcer meant food, security, power. It meant survival.

But she doesn’t have to fight for it, not anymore. And yet, Zahra can feel the same restlessness plaguing the others settling into her bones, a need to do something weighing on her shoulders. She picks up extra shifts and tries to fill her days with anything that will keep the unease at bay for a little while longer. Mara catches her on her return from an extra patrol, and Zahra has to blink to make sure her (perhaps slightly sleep deprived) brain isn’t making things up. 

It’s strange to see Mara so far away from the infirmary in the mall. Whatever she’s asking for must be serious. “Yeah, of course,” Zahra replies. Her eyes scan the courtyard, trying to find somewhere secluded to talk, but there are too many people coming and going. If this is a serious as she suspects, they’ll need more privacy. “Why don’t you walk me back to my room and I’ll see if I can answer your question?”

•

After a handful of patrol runs, where she’s brought back select supplies directly to Mara and the infirmary, Zahra has become someone that she trusts to do the right thing. To want to do the right thing. It’s what she counts on now, nodding at the Enforcer’s suggestion. “Thanks,” she says, crossing her arms as they fall in step beside each other. 

“We’re running low again,” she begins after a minute of silence, kicking up the dusty road they’re trekking along, like this is any other conversation two people might have. “Not just narcotics or pain killers. Basic supplies. Bandages. Stitches. Sutures.” Things that they’d continued to need, even beyond Tylenol or Motrin. Mara casts a sidelong glance at Zahra, “But I don’t know that it’ll be enough,” she admits, cautious about her word choice. “There’s a lot of people who need medical attention on a daily basis.” A lot of people who needed survivable rations. Extra clothes. The means with which to protect themselves. 

“It’s just going to get worse. Don’t you think?” As an Enforcer, she images Zahra is privy to more planning and rationing conversations than even she was. But she wants to know that the other sees the same problem she does before providing a potential solutions (and a treasonous one at that).

now separated from the safety of daiyu, ophelia heads into a seemingly empty storefront opting to wait out the chaos.  that is, if it ever ceases.  she doesn’t want to imagine a scenario in which the soldiers are unable to get the runners under control.  her chest is filled with panic as she thinks about her loved ones.  is the mall the only place affected, or is her mom somewhere in the hotel battling an outbreak of their own?  she can’t stomach the thought, so she tries to focus on the present.  hide, stay quiet, protect little one.  it can be her only priority right now.  there’s no room for anything else.

opie crouches behind a deteriorating counter, her back pressed against the plywood covered in peeling lamination.  she tries to take long, deep breaths, her hand steady against her stomach.  “you’re okay, you’re okay, we’re alive, it’s going to be okay,” she whispers softly, rubbing soothing circles across her belly.  being the brave one, she realizes, will have to be her role from now on, whether or not she is ready.

she hears movement and her whole body tenses.  she is frozen, her limbs wrapped around herself as she stares straight ahead.  she is too scared to turn, to investigate the source of the noise.  be brave, be brave.  slowly, she shifts, her head craning around the counter to see who, or what, was around.  complete and utter relief washes over her when she sees mara moving to crouch down across the room.  ophelia attempts to slowly and quietly move a bit closer to her, see if she can get her attention without causing a fright.  when mara’s eyes finally meet hers, opie feels a sense of ease in her chest.  she’s not sure she’s ever been so happy to see her.  she nods in the surgeon’s direction, attempting to discreetly wipe the remainder of mike’s blood onto her pants in hopes to avoid alarm.  “are you?” she whispers back, her eyes and ears still trying to remain alert to their surroundings, “and your family?”  ophelia recalled the pair, new additions to the qz, an incredibly unlikely reunion.  she had been overjoyed for mara to have her child and husband back into her life, she hopes they are alright and mara being alone in front of her now isn’t a bad sign.  “you haven’t happened to run into gilbert at all, have you?”

•

Mara holds up her hand as Ophelia attempts to draw nearer, gesturing from herself to the other woman, indicating that she’d come closer. The crunch of glass underfoot makes her wince but she presses forward until she’s sinking to the ground beside Ophelia. The doctor glances over her, clinical and to the point as she inspects the other woman for any sign of serious injury. “I’m fine,” she utters a breath of a whisper, her thoughts with Felix whom she’d tried to warn via radio before seeing the infected. She only hopes he managed to pass along the word to Teddy and does her best not worry. 

“They’ll be okay,” she nods softly, giving Ophelia’s hand an encouraging squeeze. Even saying it aloud gives Mara hope that it’s true. “I didn’t but that doesn’t mean anything.  I’m sure he’s fine. ” She hasn’t seen a lot of people, consumed with avoiding the infected who she knows will be creeping to this part of the mall in a matter of minutes. “Not hurt but are you alright?” she casts a meaningful glance at Opie’s stomach, “do you have any weapon?” as a follow up, Mara holding up one of her switchblades and reaching for her second, in case her friend didn’t. “We’re going to need to move soon. I don’t want us to get blocked in.” Especially since this store was towards the end of the corridor, with less access points to the rest of the mall.

It must be a widespread problem, insomnia. How can people sleep when their livelihood depends on the suffering of others, after all? Even if you strip away the events of the past days, there’s still the crimes they all carry — the looting that keeps stock up and supplies them with the things they need. The people searching for a safe haven and in stead find a trap, a gun against their temple, their blood on the stones. If she were to believe her father, it shouldn’t be something to keep you up at night. Dog-eat-dog, kill-or-be-killed, et-fucking-cetera.

But it keeps her up at night and she wonders how many others are tossing and turning, now. Because of the losses, but because of their acidic shame too. Does Mara lie awake at night? What things had she done, to come here? To stay here? Daiyu is close to asking it, to ripping open the conversation and making it something realer.

In stead, she quips: “We have no sheep here, so I’d be done pretty quickly.” One corner of her mouth is turned up and it remains there until her muscles fall slack. It would be easy to demand Mara give her what she wants, but she has little interest in pulling rank on the other. Daiyu likes her and it seems the feeling is mutual enough — she’d prefer to keep it that way. So while her interest lies in retreatment to her room, she nods. “Sure thing, doc. That’s a fair deal.” She sticks out her hands, demonstrative. “What d’you need me to do? I’m all yours.”

•

The truth is probably that fewer people sleep well than might claim to. More people are plagued with bouts of memories that haunt them or restlessness that plagues them and there’s no real solution Mara’s found. Their ever dwindling medical supplies are always a concern but for some reason, for Daiyu...she makes an exception. There’s no favoritism, no Volkov name influencing her. More so the fact that before she’d found him again, Daiyu had reminded her of Felix in that scrappy, take-everything-on-the-chin, keep-your-head-held-high type of way. And maybe in helping her, she’d hoped that somewhere out there, someone was helping her son and partner. 

Mara’s lips twitch and she shrugs, “but plenty up here,” she taps her temple, “you’d never run out.” Which is the point. Mara shifts showing Diayu what she’s doing. “Fold them this way,” she instructs, demonstrating the precise way she measures and cuts and rolls and ties off each new bandage, in a way that’’s easily storable. “Here,” the doctor hands Daiyu a pair of scissors and continues on her pile.

They work in silence for a few minutes, Mara content to do so for the most part. Until her gaze shifts to Daiyu and she finally speaks after a beat. “Are you, uh...you’re doing alright besides the whole insomnia thing?” Said with a haphazard smile to make it seem like a lighter question than it is. She’s no therapist and doesn’t want to be, but to her dismay, she’s become quite fond of some people, quite certain that she wants to help them however she can. 

Everything is a blur of blood and screams. The mall has shifted from a safe haven to a slaughterhouse as the infected attack. Mara just remembers radioing Felix and Teddy shortly after the first screams sounded, and then instinct kicked in. Her first instinct is to stay calm, always always calm, hands steady as she packs up medical supplies as quietly as possible. She can’t put everything back into the storeroom but she stuffs what she can into the nearest pack, slinging it over her shoulders as the sound of screams and shouts grow to a fever pitch. 

Her second instinct is to find her family, knowing that they’re somewhere in the building, likely fighting for their own survival. She’s found that the need to survive is innate in most everyone, especially when they’ve got something to lose. And she has everything to lose. Perhaps that’s why despite her calm, despite her determination, she can’t help but take a corner too fast before checking, intent on heading to Felix’s last known post. Her first encounter with the infected man happens fast, adrenaline pumping in her veins as blood rushes past her ears and her hands go from doctor to soldier. 

Mara can’t say for certain how much time passes after that. All she knows is that it feels like an age before she dashes into the nearest abandoned storefront, wincing as glass crunches slightly underfoot before she crouches by what would’ve been the check-out register. Chest heaving from exertion, she lets out the smallest breaths before the slightest movement catches her eye. Knives are at the ready in seconds before she realizes who it is several feet away and she breathes a sigh of relief. Ophelia. In the dimly lit space, blue eyes strain to scan the other woman from head to toe (crouched though they both were).”Are you okay?” It’s the quietest of whispers, barely audible for fear of any lingering infected over hearing. This part of the mall is too quiet, the din of panic and violence a distant noise and Mara doesn’t trust it. @kinderdays​

Days have passed since the outbreak of the infected, each one passing languidly, as though everyone was waiting with baited breath for the next incident – for the other shoe to drop. But it doesn’t and Mara carries on, they all do. But even in that carrying on, she and her family (her family, her family, her family – they’re here) agree to a plan. She squeezes Teddy’s hand when they make their decision to bring Felix into it. They’re doing this for her, she reminds herself as she approaches Zahra. 

They’re doing this because she’s asked them to help the people she’s grown to care about. She’s torn between wanting to run with the family she’s waited so long to see again, the family she’s hoped against hope would be okay, and the people she’s spent years caring for. People she’s bandaged and soothed and calmed in the darkest storms. And she can’t choose. So Teddy and Felix don’t make her. They agree to help, to try anyway. They’d resume old habits from Boston and they’d make what little difference they could in a place designed to squash any goodness. 

“Hey, do you have a minute?” Mara asks, and it’s nothing out of the ordinary from any other instance where she’d give Zahra a small slip of paper with a list of things they needed. The other would gather supplies and make sure they actually arrived to the infirmary before getting picked over by enforcers who thought a private store was more useful for their needs. “I have a question about shifts,” she lies with a nod at the enforcer. @zahramorales​

when — night from 2 to 3 july, late. where — infirmary who — @maraxsinclair

Daiyu prefers to ignore memory. It is easier to live in this zone when one looks at just what’s in front of them, after all: to not focus on what dreadful future awaits and what horrible past lies behind. But it’s hard to practice that tonight, the memory of the man from the Purged gasping for air. It’s like she’s eight again, watching her father next to the dangling bodies of FEDRA soldiers, claiming victory. A finger on her chin, demanding her to take it in. Don’t cry, Daiyu.

She doesn’t cry any more, that’s one thing that has changed since the uprisings. She didn’t look away either, but now that she is attempting to sleep she finds that she can’t close her eyes without seeing the days events unfold again and again. A noose around a neck, scrambling hands, twitching legs, the loud snap! once the body fell off the truck.

So here she is. Not wearing her usual get up, but whatever passes as pajamas these days, moving towards the infirmary. They were once conference rooms — Daiyu thinks the old world should’ve done a bit more fucking conferencing to avoid this mess, most of the time. Once there, she peeps around the corner before slipping in. No unfriendly faces, at least. She approaches Mara with little thought, the other having seen her in plenty worse shapes. It’s not a comfort, but not a discomfort either. “Hey.” Her shoulders are tight, fingers tapping against the desk. “Got something to help me sleep?” It’s past 3am and Daiyu isn’t sure if she can take any more of the laying awake. She swallows, looks around the place for a moment, feeling rather selfish on one hand but simply wrung out on another. Sleep deprivation is a familiar enemy. “Everything alright ‘round here?”

•

Death can be a creeping quiet thing. It can also be as loud as a clap of thunder, demanding to be heard. The hangings had been thunder. A message to everyone in the QZ. To any who’d go against Alexei. To any who’d jeopardize the peace within Idaho Falls, if it can even be called that. Peace under the Volkov has always been synonymous with compliance. And anything that doesn’t fall under compliance is synonymous with treason. 

It weighs heavy on Mara’s mind as she continues cleaning up the infirmary, the havoc from days prior leaving most of the mall in shambles. She’s thankful, though, that most of their supplies had already been stored safely, thanks to her own foresight, and that what was lost wasn’t drastic enough to cause worry. Right now anyway. Any loss of medical supplies worries Mara but she’s focused on other things right now. The hangings. The interrogations.

It’s what she’s thinking of as she counts bandages only to hear the light tread of footsteps approaching. Hand goes to the switchblade in her pocket before seeing the familiar face in the dim light. Her grip loosens only slightly before Diayu speaks and Mara sighs. “Try counting sheep?” she suggest with a haphazard smile, nodding at the question. She gestures at the bandages she’s counting. “Alright enough. Clean up mostly.” Like everywhere else she suspects.  “You can help,” she offers, knowing that standing idle exacerbated insomnia for her. “Then I’ll see what I’ve got.” 

The bitter taste of defeat lingers on Mara’s tongue as the QZ falls apart around her. As people turn on each other and even those who appear most innocent give into the need for survival. That’s what they were all trying to do, right? Survive. Except there has to be more than that. She’d fought for so long, had stayed alive for so many years because of hope. Because she was determined to find her family again and she had. And now they had a choice and it weighs heavily on Mara as she waits in silence with Felix for Teddy’s arrival. It’s late but she’s got clearance to be in the infirmary. And she’s got a switchblade in case either Felix or Teddy need a quick excuse for being there as well. 

Though, the dim light above them is enough to illuminate the cut marring her son’s cheek, rugged and stubbled and she’s once again reminded of how much time has passed. Without preamble, and just for something to do, she reaches across, tipping Felix’s head so she can get a better look. “Are you cleaning it?” she asks, ever the mother hen where he’s concerned and though she knows the answer, she can’t help but ask. Mara’s always been calm under pressure but her patience to wait for Teddy has run out after ten years. “He said he’d follow right after you, right?” @felixsinclair​ & @teddyquijadas​

It’s still so surreal to hold her in his arms again, like not a day passed since he lost her; they’re curled into each other, half-naked in some bunk in the last quarantine zone he’d ever thought he’d find her. It feels like coming home as he lays beside Mara, their bodies pressed together, hands entwined, in a haze of pheromones and each other — oh, how many times he dreamed of these intimate moments, only to wake up angry and frustrated and grieving all over again. A decade of holding that heaviness, hiding his pain for the sake of their son, all for it to melt away in Idaho, heartache forgotten as he smiles down at her, pressing sweet kisses to her temple. There’s no such thing as real privacy in Idaho Falls, but alone together in Mara’s standard-issue bed, Teddy wouldn’t care if Alexei Volkov himself barged into the room. 

They never had a wedding of sorts, no formal celebration of their commitment to each other, but this moment feels like a honeymoon. As Mara twists out of his arms, finding her place on top of him instead, he can’t help but think about how monumentally lucky he is — thank God he’s fucking found her, that she survived all these years, and was still looking for him, too. Moonlight and his fingertips trace her skin as she speaks. Teddy listens, though his eyebrows furrow hard at her words.

Somewhere inside, he knows she’s right. He, too, feels the tug in his stomach, an inherent urge to help fix what is clearly broken here inside the walls of the quarantine zone. But Teddy is uncertain if he’s willing to put his family at risk again so soon. “I don’t know, Mar…” he says, slipping a hand behind his head as he looks at her. “It’s never been our plan to settle.” The elephant in the room threatens to break the silence; their decade forced apart from each other rears its ugly head again. “I know a lot of time has passed since we’ve revisited our plan, but…” he trails off. “What’s changed? We should just get out while we can, while no one will ask any questions over three more bodies gone missing.” 

He pushes a fallen piece of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “I miss being in the trees. Don’t you?”

•

Mara presses her lips together, studying her love with a steady and staunch gaze, blue eyes unwavering as he speaks. She’d dreamed about moments like these – when they were together again, entwined and cocooned in their own warmth and haze of affection. She’d spent years hoping they’d be reunited, strung back together by fate and chance, and now that they were, she should be packing her bags. She knows that. But her heart is stubborn, and she’s never been able to look away from those in need. “What’s changed is that I’ve been here, Teddy.” She catches the finger which brush her skin, pressing soft kisses to them. “And I know them.” And they were the people who kept me going when I didn’t know if you or Felix were alive.

"I just...I know we can do good here. We can help anywhere but here especially.” She knows it’s not what he wants to hear and wishes she could change her mind, but whenever she tries, there’s pushback she can’t ignore. Her conscience telling her she can’t leave yet. There’s still work to do. “There are people who are suffering now.” She knots their fingers together, resting her cheek on his bare chest, ear pressed to his heart and listening to the steady beat of his heart. “And I don’t think I can leave them. Not yet. Not after the storm.” The storm which seemed like ages ago now but had resulted in more problems in the past few weeks than they’d had in years in Idaho Falls. Rations, especially, were at an all time low. “We’ve never turned from those who need us.” He’s not wrong, though, getting out now would be easiest. When people were still dazed with loss and grief and strife. But she can’t do it. Not yet.  

Mara watches the moonlight hitting the wall of the room, watches the shadows dance as she presses a kiss to Teddy’s hand, knotting her fingers through his. It’s quiet, patrols taking Eva from the room for the night. It’s been so long since they’ve been like this, over a decade, and she still knows him like the back of her hand, like the same heart that beats in her chest beats in his. She feels calm in this quiet, racing mind easing in Teddy’s arms. He always had a way of anchoring her in the present, in the here and now. 

The sounds of muffled voices and the protest of old metal hinges creaking with torque was a sound that Felix had never thought he’d perk up in excitement for. The first time the sounds had echoed in the room had him looking to the others to see if they’d heard the same and that it wasn’t just a sound of his hopeful imagination. But the sounds had persisted, and soon enough the door had been thrown open and a flood of near blinding daylight filled the room. 

Felix had gotten to his feet, blinking rapidly as his eyes adjusted, and the first thing he saw with clarity was Mara. Before he knew it, her arms were wrapped around him and tension bled off Felix’s limbs, relief setting in like a wash of warm water. “Mom,” he mumbled into her shoulder. 

“I’m, well, I’m …okay. We’ve got a guy in here that’s not doing so hot – you should probably take a look at my shoddy attempt at a fucking surgery with a pen tube, but that’s neither here nor there,” he said with a single choke of a laugh, he certainly hadn’t expected that he’d end up doing that when he’d set out that morning. He took a deep breath and pulled away to meet her eyes, but the sight of her face has him frowning with worry. He’s already reaching for her face with one of his hands unthinkingly, the gesture stalling before he touches, “Shit, mom - I should be asking you what happened.” He looked over her shoulder to follow her gaze to his dad, to make sure that he too looks safe and whole. 

•

Mara clings to her son, holding him tight, all thoughts of keeping their connection secret out the window the moment she sees he’s okay. She’d already lost him once and she’d be damned if she let him slip through her fingers again. She pulls back, inspecting his face with a critical eye, scanning each cut and bruise to determine if it’s fatal or not. Only when she confirms he is, in fact, okay, does she pull back, eyes glancing past him towards where he indicates the injured person is. “Show me, Fe. I’ll do what I can.” She’s proud he acted, though, despite circumstances being less than ideal. They never are. 

His concern earns a small smile, bruises stinging as she waves a hand. “I’m good...we’re good...just a little run in with debris but nothing that won’t heal. Looks worse than it is,” Mara says, touching his cheek gently. “Don’t worry about me.”