Participants:
| Scene Title | Detente |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Three people wary of one another care for the same person. It's a place to start. |
| Date | March 24, 2019 |
“I just—”
“Ma'am, this is the last time I'm going to ask you.”
Biting her tongue, Emily turns away from the double doors she's been ejected out of, a crossed-arm, stern-faced ER nurse standing in the doorway until they're closed and locked again.
For a lack of reasonable alternatives, she walks down the short hall back to the emergency room waiting area. Jacket hanging off the side of her arm, she lingers near the seating without setting her things down. She lets her eyes roam, wondering if she could manage to find a place further away from people she'd rather avoid.
It's not like there's many free places to sit, though.
“They're not letting anyone back to see him still,” is how Emily chooses to summarize her encounter when she approaches Richard, brow knit in frustration about that no matter how she tries to smooth her expression.
“They’re just doing their job, Emily,” says Richard, leaning up against a wall with arms folded across his chest instead of claiming one of the seats, “Devon’s doing just fine, he’ll be fine. Just gotta wait a little while before they’re sure everything is okay, that’s all.”
Of course, he’s already checked on Devon three times, not that the hospital is aware of it.
He brings a hand up to scratch at the curve of his jaw, brow knit as he looks to the doors, “I’ve got some questions for his squad though.”
Elisabeth's delayed arrival is a quiet one, but her worry is evident as she steps into the waiting room. Her blue eyes seek and find Richard unerringly. "How is he?" Her query is tight, her throat choked with fear.
Emily's restless movements are noted but Elisabeth gives the girl some space as she makes her way to the shadowmorph, leans against the wall next to him, and lays her head on his shoulder. The contact lets him feel the subtle buzzing again, something that's only begun to happen in the past week.
"It wouldn't kill them to let at least someone back there," Emily grouses, nevermind that the three of them aren't blood or legal relatives.
When Liz arrives, Emily turns and takes a half-step back to allow her into the circle of conversation. The distance is all the better to warily regard her with a nod. She brushes her hair from her face, threading stray bangs behind one ear.
She's still in too much a state of shock about everything to have gotten to the questions Richard has. "I didn't ask for details because I didn't want them. But whatever happened, they thought him…" Trailing off, she shakes her head hastily.
“He’s fine,” Richard says quietly, wrapping an arm around Elisabeth’s shoulders and brushing a kiss to the side of her head, “He’ll be just fine.”
He looks back up to Emily from behind darkened glasses, chin dipping in a slight nod. “I know. I got the call as soon as I got back. Obviously…” His tone dry, “…they were wrong. Whatever happened, I want to know what, and where he’s been the past two months.”
The tone of voice carries with it an air of and I will find out.
Closing her eyes, her head tipped into him like that, Elisabeth breathes out a small sigh of relief. She trusts his call — it's not as if he hasn't been back to check on Devon, right? A faint smile quirks one corner of her mouth as she then lifts her head again, though she remains in the embrace. He'll find out; it's what he does.
Blue eyes flicker to Emily and her posture shifts slightly under Richard's arm to a slightly stiffer one. Her wariness of the younger woman isn't fear, she's just uncomfortable and uncertain what to even say to her. She opts instead to stick to facts. "I got hold of Dad while I was dropping the kids off with Harmony," she tells Richard quietly. "He and Mom are going to pack up and head back." They were up at the cabin.
Emily glances again briefly at Elisabeth before looking away, a similar awkwardness in her. Definitely not in the vein of 'oh, you're the dead woman Richard showed me a picture of', either. No, this is something different.
"You might be right after all," she says as she looks back to Liz, making eye contact, however brief it might actually be. After that, her gaze shifts a little more pointedly to Richard. "Unless he's not really him."
Her weight shifts hard as she asks, "Because unless he floated all the way from the West Coast, down to Cape Horn, all the way back up to Brighton, I'm not geographically seeing how he washed up there. Dad—" Emily's brow twitches as she says the name that implies familiarity and closeness, but she can't take it back once it's spoken. "said they were ambushed by machines. How do any of the facts point to this being our Devon?" Her shoulders lift inquisitively as she looks between them both.
This is where she is in her life now, apparently. Insinuating someone's from another reality with a straight face.
“It’s a possibility,” Richard admits without trying to sugar-coat it, his head shaking ever so slightly, “He very well might be another— iteration of Devon, but we won’t know more until he’s properly up and about and talking. Then we can run through a few basic questions to make sure he is who he says he is.” He pauses, “Also it’s possible Hana had him chipped like a Labrador Retriever for ease of identification, I wouldn’t put it past her.”
That’s not a bad idea, says his expression, maybe I should start doing that.
He tilts his head between them, then, “Oh— Liz, this is Emily, Avi’s kid. Emily, this is Elisabeth Harrison.” Little does he know.
Emily's words to her about being 'right' don't bring an 'I told you so' reaction or anything of that nature. Elisabeth just meets her gaze and there is sympathy in her expression. It's hard to live in the world in which Elisabeth and Richard and people in their circle exist — it is a really long way from the 'normal' world. Her brow does quirk upward and blue eyes pivot sharply to Richard as he comments on being chipped like a Labrador Retriever. "Please tell me you're fucking kid—"
And then she's cut off by the introduction. When her blue eyes come back to Emily, there's this comical expression of Well THAT explains just about EVERYTHING. "We've met," she tells the man, her tone laced with a hint of amusement. "She makes a strong first impression." She could be teasing the younger woman just a little. She does, however, not linger on that, returning to the idea of Devon not being himself. "If he's another iteration, it's not from the closest line," she tells him evenly. "He wasn't one of my contingent the last time, his mission was in the other part of the facility and their evac route went the other way." So Flood Devon couldn't have fallen through the bridge, as Aurora wondered. "Based on his reaction to Emily, I'd venture he's from here. But it implies that whatever happened on his last run, they may have…." Experimented on him. Done something to him. Tortured him.
The hum along Richard's skin gets more intense at the memories of the things that Zeke did to people like Aric, reaching deeper to make him ache a little. It's even evident to Emily, though it travels no further. She seems to be struggling a little bit to quell the reaction.
Emily's eyes sharpen on Richard the same time Elisabeth rounds on him at what was surely a joke about microchipping people. Her expression turns guarded as the audiokinetic looks as though she might laugh once they've all been reintroduced, easing only slightly once Liz glosses past the fact Emily had hit her the first time they met.
Thanks, Liz.
Emily's expression mellows as the woman goes on to talk about her experiences 'elsewhere', and brings up an actual alternate Devon. As casually as she'd posed the question, she never expected a definitive answer, and not immediately. It's something that causes her hair to raise — or maybe it's the strange sensation she doesn't realize is coming from Elisabeth.
She pulls her phone from the pocket of her jacket, checking the time before tucking it away. "Well, assuming they're driving," Whoever's coming from Wolfhound, that is," they might be another few hours before they get here." Emily says mildly, feeling like she needs to make some contribution to the conversation.
“If nothing else, he seemed to recognize you at least, like Liz said,” says Richard with a tip of his head towards Emily, “So that’s a point towards it being our Devon, at the very least. It’s still a possibility, but we shouldn’t worry over-much about it— Occam’s Razor suggests we treat him as ours until there’s evidence otherwise.”
At the mention of things that might have happened, he grimaces down at Elisabeth, “We’ll find out soon, I’m sure. We may want to get Cassie in here.”
Oh! Oh DUH!! Elisabeth's clearly startled, too emotional over the situation to have been thinking along those lines. She looks up at him and rubs her forehead. "Jesus fucking Christ," she breathes. "I gotta get my head back in the game. I didn't even…" Okay. Okay, that calms her. At least a little tiny bit. Enough that his bones aren't humming.
A glance to Emily and Liz nods slightly. "Yeah, at least that. Although I know they've got air transport, so it could be sooner," she comments. "But he's not going back up there to recuperate." Her blue eyes turn to RIchard. "Dad's adamant that he's staying here. If Devon can't speak for himself, Dad said he's got medical power of attorney."
The mention of Cassie earns Richard another wary look from Emily, the young woman's chest lifting and falling in as quiet a sigh as she's able to manage. Yes, the dead SESA woman who's come back to life thanks to reality-traveling, and who now works for Raytech. She remembers vaguely about the woman's ability thanks to the obituary she'd looked up.
The way she looks off uncomfortably and shrugs is nearly vocal acquiescence to the suggestion. Yes, Cassandra Whatever-She-Goes-By-Now could potentially tell them a lot.
Her eyes are drifting back toward the hall leading further into the facility. She's not handled the wait well so far, and she's about to have another bout of impatience with all the questions flying. "The hell is Occam's Razor," she mutters under her breath, meaning the comment for no one but herself.
She looks up between them again. "How long are you staying? I might have to step out before I end up acting like the people Julie complains about. At least for an hour or something." Emily at least is aware of how difficult she's been, as well as the kind of wait they're looking at.
“Either me, Liz, or Jared will be here until he wakes up at the very least,” says Richard with an understanding look over to Emily, free hand coming up to rub under his shades, over his eyes, “So someone’ll be here. I’m sure we’ll have half of Amarok here in no-time as well, cluttering up the place and threatening nurses…”
A faint smile curves to his lips, “Wouldn’t surprise me if they got past, either, so someone should probably make sure they don’t try too hard.”
He looks down to Elisabeth, hesitates, “He’ll be fine. I don’t think he’ll need too much recuperation.”
Elisabeth nods in response to the reassurance, a faint smile on her lips. "I believe you." She knows damn good and well he's checked. If it were bad, he'd look a lot more worried.
Looking back at Emily, she comments quietly, "Occam's razor is basically that the simplest explanation is usually the right one. In this case… it's more likely that this is our own Devon and not a different one." She pauses and asks, a little hesitantly, "Do you want … to leave your number with us, so that if he wakes up while you're stepped out we can let you know?" She doesn't seem sure how to handle Emily.
Whatever Amarok is, Emily figures it's probably Wolfhound-related and lets out a derisive snort. Okay, she was being a handful, but she wasn't as bad as those hellions sounded like. And if that number included Lucille…
Liz's explanation takes her by surprise, and she turns slightly in her direction, gaze fixed on her throughout her awkward pause and after. Emily lacks the hesitation the older woman has as she relates, "He has it," with a tip of her head in Richard's direction. Or his fucking technopath does. is only barely bit back from becoming reality, and her arms fold tightly across her chest to keep it that way. The longer she sits in one spot, the worse her temperament is liable to build.
"It's lovely weather outside," she remarks a bit forcefully, "so I'll take my pacing out there for a bit, at least." Emily's not expecting any objection, but she waits before taking off, on the offchance there's something else either of them feel the need to say.
“Alright. If he wakes up, we’ll call you,” says Richard with a nod, watching her pace down the hallway with a shake of his head before giving his lover a rather rueful look. “She’s not a big fan,” he explains more softly, tone wry.
It’s an understatement.
Elisabeth simply nods, not tempting Emily to explode at her again. She waits until the younger woman is well down the hall, and then she laughs quietly at Richard. "Of either of us, apparently. She's got a fantastic arm on her… shoulda played for the Yankees. I think I'm grateful it was an open hand and not her fist — she might have had enough power on it to break something," she observes wryly. Her blue eyes turn from watching Emily get on the elevator to the man at her side, her arm snaking around his waist while they rest against the wall. Blowing out a slow breath, she murmurs, "He hadn't woken again the last time you were in?" She knows he's been down there. She has no idea how many times, but she knows him well. And waited so that Emily wouldn't hit him!
“I locked her and Avi in a room together to make them talk,” Richard admits as Emily disappears into the elevator, “I think she’s still holding a grudge, although I think it worked. That’s fine. She can hate me all she wants, so long as her and her father are talking again…”
He looks back to her through those dark lenses, smile fading, “No, not yet.”
What he did to Emily makes her smile faintly. "I'm starting to really like that girl." Settling in for a long wait, Elisabeth once more rests her head on his shoulder, the reassuring sound of his heartbeat soothing to her since she can't isolate Devon's in a place so filled with people. "He will," she asserts quietly. As if saying the words out loud will make it happen. "I'm glad you can sit with him."