Mac Vs PC: Infected

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"If you give people tools, [and they use] their natural ability and their curiosity, they will develop things in ways that will surprise you very much beyond what you might have expected.".

-Bill Gates (Window/PC)

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Piper's eyes slid open only to regret the decision as the light shinned through the deep green of her curtains running from high ceiling to the dark carpeted floor. Shutting her eyes as quickly as she could, she couldn't seem to shut her mind down, like she couldn't stop the sun from shining through her eyelids.

It took long exaggerated pauses before her mind caught up with her body's decision to wake. It was a timeless struggle between the two and now, unlike on the field, her body rules first and her mind responded in second. It was only fatigue and grogginess that could cause Piper to let her body declare the verdict. Only as soon as water and carbohydrates entered her body would her mind regain its rightful place as number one.

Speaking of which, Piper's stomach sank deep into the recess of her body followed by the distorted sound of her body begging for something to wet its thirst. Obeying like a child, she reached out to snag the ever-present water bottle that always seemed to be filled only to have her hand collide into the picture of Pamela, Mac and herself.

There were two things wrong with this picture. One, she would never had put the glass so close to the edge in fear that it would fall and shatter. Two, where the fuck was her water?

Someone had been in her room. And by someone she meant Mackenzie. Not only had he invaded her home, her dreams, her nightmares, and her memories but he infested her room with his scent of soap and grass. Wrinkling her nose at the smell so familiar to her sensitive nose, she returned her frame to a safe place in the center of her wood nightstand when a small chain fell from the glass landing with a slight bounce scattering over her old soccer uniform that lay crumpled on the floor. Leaning over, she rummaged through it searching for the lost treasure.

Seconds later, her fingers brushed against metal. Plunging farther she caught the clasp and fished it out of her dirty laundry. Dangling from the tips of her finger was an anklet. Gold strands twirled into each other, kissing each other as they overlapped creating an intricate braid that held a feather pendent multicolored with ruby, auburn, topaz, jade, cobalt, amethyst splayed out as each branch of the liberated quill each reaching out as if wanted to explore new lands, new territories but still each strand lead back to main stem that held the feather as one. Piper continued to hold the anklet by the clasp, afraid to cradle the piece of jewelry as it would break in her athletic hands or tarnish from the callous cascading her palms.

She knew that it was homage piece to Mac's late mother. It screamed Pamela Tosh in its design and energy. The question was why was it in her room? The piece so feminine it couldn't belong to Mackenzie and her mother would have been open about the gift. She couldn't approach him with her puzzlement with him still grieving over any mention of his mother. She didn't want to deal with the emotions it would bring up in her either. It was safer just to keep quiet. About everything. Absolutely everything.

Soon her mind began to take charge dictating to her still body that it was ridiculous to be afraid of a pendant. Without anything else to do with it, she moved to fasten the clasp around her ankle.

It fit perfectly.

The pendant was the size of her thumbnail and lay in the dent where her tabular and foot met as the chain cradled her ankle caressing her, urging her to dredge up the memories, the regret and the guilt.

Bringing her knees up, she laid her forearms on them and her chin on top. Pushing out her left foot, she continued to glace at the handy work of her anklet. The more she studied it, the more she found. Like the little 'x' and 'o' cleverly hidden in the diamonds of the trussed chain.