Participants:
| Scene Title | Just A Few Days In |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Joseph's help arrives, and it's who they said it would be. Abigail promises to stick it out with him and make him comfortable as possible. |
| Date | October 23, 2009 |
What was once Grand Central Terminal is now, in all appearances, laid to waste. The structural damage dealt to the topside building from the Bomb of 2006 meant that the building could not be saved or rebuilt, and much of what had remained intact has been demolished to rubble. For the most part it's an emptied husk, with the Midtown wind whistling through gaping concrete and iron.
But appearances can be deceiving. Access to the subways are no longer the obvious downstairs treks they once were, with most ways inside sealed off with rubble or locks. Most have better luck traveling the underground railroads, provided you know how not to get lost, or run into even more sealed passages. But once you're within, the world transforms - more or less. There is still an aura of industrial wasteland to the formerly abandoned underground levels of the terminal, but also an aura of progress.
Many of the tracks and other open spaces have been used as storage for the purpose of the Ferrymen, from crates to cardboard boxes full of supplies of varying kinds. There are medical kits, food supplies, water bottles, appliances, blankets, clothing - everything safehouses generally need are organized for easy transfer and exchange. Beyond the use of simple storage, construction is underway to continue to make certain areas livable, or rather, continue to do so - progress has been in the making for a while. There's a simple rec room, with a portable kitchen area catering to those here for the long run, a television (which gets little reception, but is hooked into a VCR and a DVD player, with a modest library), a card table, a few comforts such as couches and armchairs. A locker room has been converted into a sickbay, nearby bathrooms installed with showers and cubicles, and numerous rooms converted into semi-permanent livable spaces. The accommodations are as varied as they are numerous, some crude and some comfortable.
From the central hub sprawls the numerous tunnels used for transporting supplies in and out. The Grand Central Terminal is an immense place, and many areas are still untested - it's easy to get turned around, injured, or even trapped should the structural integrity of the place give way, although many pains have been taken, both supernatural and not, to reduce the possibility of cave ins. Many areas remain in varying states of fix-up all the way through to completely abandoned - it all depends on where you go. And there are many places to go.
The Grand Central Terminal's underground is known for wide spaces, the crush of masses - once upon a time, anyway. This room is smaller, devoid of any amount of people, with lockers dragged in to line the brick walls. Some doors are torn away to reveal common medical supplies on its metal shelving, some fixed fast despite dents and scratches. The light above flickers electrical, pallid light, draining, but clear and visible.
This is what passes for a sickbay. Three cots are shoved against the wall, two of which stripped of bedding and one, huddled into the corner, currently occupied.
Joseph wasn't lying down when Abby visited him in hospital either. Seated at the edge, bare feet set against concrete ground, he's mostly obscured in the thick blacketing around his shoulders, his legs, gripped from within in a fist. There's a currently clean plastic bucket settled on the ground within easy reach, water bottles both full and emptied scattered about as well.
He's sick, that much is clear. When storing him in his own private room suddenly veered from politely acceptable through to impractical even for Joseph and his want for privacy— well he's been here since last night. Elbows against his knees, blanket drawn tight, he rests his head in his hand and tries to will ails away.
Abigails hasn't been down here before save for going to the foxhole for that meeting. Told she might need to be down here for a few days, the SUV was driven by one of the bartender who dropped her off near an entry point and the rest of the way was hoofing it with ferryman supplies that she might need for whatever it was, her cellphone, fresh fruit, changes of clothes and her own blanket. A hiking bag and duffel bag really.
What she wasn't told was that the person down in the grand central was Joseph and what exactly was ailing him. She was just met at a certain point so she wouldn't get lost in the myriad of tunnels. So imagine the blonde's surprise so late at night when she finally makes it down and is shown to the infirmary down below. Joseph.
"Alicia is gonna get right fat if she stays with us. I've been spoiling her rotten" Her voice is hushed, quiet, reverent and respectful of the fact that this is the area for those who are ill. "I got called down. They said someone was sick, might need some tending to for a bit"
Looking up, Joseph doesn't get to be surprised. They told him they were sending for someone more capable. They'd said her name, or rather, he'd heard them saying her name, and so there's a rueful tilt to smile she gets as she approaches. His skin is clammy, pale from both the darkness of this place as well as what's ailing him, a continual shiver visible beneath the blankets.
"Thanks for takin' care of her. I thought I'd be up for takin' her back by now, but." Voice strained, quiet and worn, and Joseph shifts obligingly so that Abby can take a seat on the bed if she wishes it. Beneath the blanket, the too warm look sweater is just visible, legs clad in sweatpants, clothes designed for sleeping in.
"But right now, you need to worry about yourself, and not Alicia. Alicia is in the fine capable hands of the ladies at the bar and she is getting belly rubs with just a look Pastor Sumter" The bags are left at the door, each making a nice solid thud as they're dropped to their temporary resting place. After that, she's accepting the spot made for her on the cot.
"They wouldn't tell me what was wrong, said you would, if you wanted. So, are you going to spill or am I gonna have to go get flint to try and beat it out of you again with gratuitous use of my bathroom sink" She's trying to crack a joke, put him at ease as the back of her palm makes contact - gently - with his forehead. Motherly instead of professionally judging a temperature.
Beneath the placing of her hand, warm palm to cool skin, Joseph's look is both startled and guilty in equal measures, before— belatedly— seeing some humour in that and letting a rueful chuckle grate out of his throat. "You— you worked out that much, huh?" He speaks at a slight stammer, in the breathless way people do when far too cold for their own good, swallowing and pulling blankets tighter around him. "Flint knows. He didn't tell you?"
"Flint went dead silent the other night when he came over, when I talked about Leonard and I fixing the bathroom and that you'd left money for the fixing before you fled. I'm an occasionally bright girl, I can put two and two together. He didn't tell me though why it happened. I guess he figured it was your story to tell. Lord on high, Joseph, you're cold as a clam. Just as wet."
Pink lips purse and palm moves from forehead to take up wrist and glance down to her watch.
There doesn't seem particularly anything wrong with heart rate, at least, if on the slow end of normal. Joseph allows for it with defeated patience, shirt sleeve pushed halfway up his forearm, covering that all important crook of elbow. Shivers wrack down his limb, end stronger in fingertips. "I asked him not to say anythin'," Joseph admits. Not on the day, but the first time.
Other hand used to draw up his blanket enough to mop at cold sweat, hair lank with it, a reluctant breath is taken, words coming with its release; "It's detox. I'm a few days into withdrawal. I was wantin' to tell you— after, but we don't always get what we want, I guess."
She expected it to be something contagious, or maybe, something else other than 'detox' to come out of his mouth. If she's shocked, for once, Abigail doesn't let it show on her face. Her face stays schooled in something akin to sereneness as she heaves herself up from the cot so that she can head back to luggage.
"Sometimes, no. But we'll get you through this Joseph. You shoulda said something sooner, I woulda let you stay, Leo and I woulda helped you through it. But like you said, we don't always get what we want. But you'll get what you need which seems to be someone to make sure you don't go running through the tunnels for whatever it is that you were taking and to just mop yer head and keep an eye on things"
She looks over at Joseph, that gentle smile he's seen since the first day she came to service. "Can I ask what it was, or should I just keep my mouth shut and just get you comfortable?"
With her back turned, she can't see Joseph brisk, wordless head shake of denial, that he won't go running for it, though he can't quite put it into words. It's not like he hasn't thought about it. Over and over. On repeat. His jaw aches a little with the clamp of his teeth, but tension eases again by the time she's smiling over at him. Still, his voice comes out as if he has to wrench it.
"Refrain." He snakes an arm out from the blankets, reaching to steal up a half-finished bottle of water, no longer looking at her. "I've been on Refrain since I got out. They gave it to me while I was there and I didn't— I couldn't reckon with it right away. Told myself I just needed time. I'm sorry."
Refrain. He can probably see the question churning in her mind. Was the syringe his or not? But she doesn't voice it, just licks her bottom lip, tongue coming out to whet it before she starts to formulate a plan, figure things out. "No sorries. You're not responsible for what they did to you. And after, well sometimes Pastor, we have our demons and they can be hard to fight when they rear their heads. You been keeping anything down or do you keep throwing up?" She's shifting into medical mode.
Long ago, she would have plunked besides the bed and relegated herself to just reaching out and touching now and then, miraculously taking it all away and making it easier to fight the addiction with the easing of symptoms. Now, she's got to go about it a different way. "You tell me what you need, and i'll do it. You want me to sit beside you and read, I can do that. You need me to rub your back while you empty your stomach, I can do that Joseph. We'll get you past this, long as it takes. No sorries or guilt. You'd do the same for me"
"I haven't eaten much. It mostly just comes up again," Joseph admits, shifting to sit further back, a leg folding beneath the other as he rests his back against the wall behind the cot, still shivering. "I dunno what to— to say about it, what I need— it just feels bad. All over. Not gettin' much in the way of sleep. And yeah, I would," is added, with a hint of a smile. "But you probably wouldn't git yourself in this place anyway."
Resting his head back against the brick, he takes a steadying breath. "I'm responsible for what I do after I'm outta there. I shouldn't have asked Flint like I did. And you know, I still want it. I only waited 'til I ran dry to get here."
"But you're here and you're trying to stop. There's a great many folks pastor who won't stop. Lemme see if they have ways of heating up blankets down here, and we'll work on getting you warm, if you want, I can get something started in an IV for you, keeping you hydrated will help. I can see if someone will make a pedialyte run for me. It's not gonna but easy, but I have faith that you can pull through this. If you want my help. If you don't, then I can just leave stuff for Robin or the other ferryman to help you with if you like" There might be an ego issue, what with him being her former pastor and all.
"Maybe I can even have someone bring Alicia down, get a visit with her in, sorta a reward for being dry so long. Bet that would lift the spirits a bit wouldn't it?" She's digging out some stuff from the smaller bag, sealed medical things that she'll need if he tells her yes. "Got my music thing too, the ipod, and some little speakers. We cans tay occupied driving RObin crazy with hymns"
Joseph offers another similar, wan smile. "I ain't gonna turn down help," he says. "I'd welcome the company too. Just— " He pauses, rethinks his words, mouth going into a line before his head tilts a little. "Alright, well, I'm guessin' you won't be hearin' none of me feelin' bad about keeping you down here for my sake, but know that I do. Otherwise— I trust you. I'm not goin' so well trusting myself nowadays."
A pause, then staccato chuckle along with, "I could stand to see my dog."
"I'll call Leonard to bring her by tomorrow afternoon, I'll fetch her and bring her back. She can spend the night maybe longer. I can always take her for a walk down the tunnels for her to chase rats if she gets bored and i'm sure the others down here wouldn't much mind the behemoth paying them a visit" A one sided grin errupts fully on her face as she carts over supplies.
"Okay, up with the sleeve, lets get you hooked up. I touched you before, and didn't get a vision, are you having problems with your gift? Do I need to put gloves on all the time or will I be good?" Thank god for passive abilitites and not offensive or defensive ones. "Not that I don't ever mind seeing the lords plans, but it can be a bit disconcerting when weilding a needle or the like huh"
Shedding the blanket for the moment, Joseph started to roll up a sleeve, before giving up and peeling off the sweater in favour of the T-shirt already beneath it, a loose, dark navy thing hanging on his torso. Both arms have their track marks, so there's no doing for that, even if there was something to hide. "I… no. No, you don't got anythin' to worry about," he says, though it clearly takes some thought. Explanation comes swiftly; "I haven't been giving visions lately, not since before I was taken in. The only times've been— a few times, with the Humanis First soldiers, when they were moving me around. Didn't help me none. I gave a vision to Flint, during the whole— "
He pauses, flicks a dubious glance her way. "Bathroom. Thing. I ain't usin' it like it should be used, but it's not actin' on its own." A soft snort as he adds, "Flint gave me a coupla thumps to the head enough for me to think it might go haywire again, but the Lord's been merciful in that regard."
You say, "ahh, so that's what he did? Explains the dents in the wall, Pastor you got a hard head" Another jest as she studies the arm and opts for attacking his the back of his hand instead of where the other syringes have gone before with alcohol swab, followed swiftly - with her newfound skills and practice on Megan - by IV catheter, tape and gratuitous amounts of bedside manner and worrying about how she's doing.
"There you go. Hope that wasn't too bad. I'm no Megan, but I like to think she taught me a thing or two. This'll make it easier for you to use your arms. You'll feel marginally better soon. Lemme hang the bag and such, I'm gonna go slip out and get a bowl of water and see about the blankets and make arrangements. You have any requests other than Alicia? Anything special you want to help you be comfortable down here? Books? Bible? maybe a razor or two to make you feel presentable? That helps, so i've heard""
The blanket is brought back around, sweater pushed over the end of the bed to settle on the duffle bag that's been dragged here, holding the rest of his necessities. "Books would be great," Joseph says, inspecting the work at the back of his hand and offers a smile as if to communicate that it's just fine. "Anythin'— well, if you've got somethin' to help me sleep. Got myself a razor…"
He trails off, mouth clamping shut as if perhaps that aforementioned nausea were coming back up, but there's no move made for the bucket. Paleness stands out, a shudder crossing through ash is limbs retract into himself, a shaky breath out. "Hurts sometimes," is said, shortly and reluctantly. "Go, I'm good."
"I can call up Megan, see what she says for the pain and for the sleeping. See if they have it down here and if they don't i'm sure the medical safehouses will have some and we'll get it down. Hang in there for the next half hour and we'll settle in for the night Pastor Sumter. I'll even hide you from flint" There's a wink as Abby strips off the latex gloves and plops them down on her pile of spent supplies.
"I'll be back in ten, fifteen. I'll get some place to make a call later" She's got to change too, still in her school standard dress which is akin to an honest to god EMT's uniform. "Hang in there" She squeezes Joseph's shoulder, satisfied as well when she hands the two bags that she's hooked up and starts to head for the door. "Lemme go find out where they are hiding the down pillows and duvets" Give Joseph a bit of a break from herself too. She knows she can be a bit much normally.
"I ain't afraid o' Flint," is a brisk correction, though a smile recognises, once more, good humour. If strained. A hand goes out, grips the mattress, and Joseph eases himself to lie down as Abby is walking away, looking relieved to be doing so if the sigh that eases out of him is to be of any indication. On his back, his un-needled hand goes up to rest against his forehead, eyes shutting.