Listen To The Doc


brennan_icon.gif doyle_icon.gif

Scene Title Listen To The Doc
Synopsis Doyle tries to make a break away when he finds out Colette's been caught, and Brennan tries to get him to see reason before he hurts himself.
Date February 5, 2010

Brick House

"Jason, don't be ridiculous, you're not— "

"— hey!"

Oh, yeah, there's something going on - a commotion in the hall as the puppeteer strides down the hall towards the exit. Well, strides is probably not the best term, since he's sort of staggering along weakly down the hall. His jeans are half unbuttoned, and he's struggling a jacket on over the shirt he's wearing. His expression's grim, rather dark really, a stormy look that doesn't bode well for anybody. One of the safehouse's residents at the moment, a skinny, punk-looking kid, is standing frozen to one side of the hall that he's just passed, grimacing a bit, "Jason, dude, you're gonna hurt yourself!"

SOmeone had run to fetch Brennan from elsewhere, spilling the beans that Jason was up, and making a break for it. Something that Brennan wasn't satisfied with and not ready to give the larger man the all clear. Not yet. SO from down the hall comes Brennan, sleeves pushed up and a concerned look on his face with the messenger behind him. "Hey. Jason" He calls out. "Listen, buddy, guy. Get back in bed. I'm sure that whatever the kid did, he's sorry and will apologize but come on buddy, you're not ready to be up and about, not quite yet. I'd like to get more blood into you and another day on the meds" Sure Brennan's broad shouldered and big hands, but Eric's still got weight on him and unknown to Brennan, an ability to boot.

"I don't care," Eric replies flatly, struggling to get the jacket on and keep walking at the same time with about a pint still missing from his internal circulatory system, his gaze fixed on the end of the hall. A stumble, and he ends up leaning against the wall as he tries to shove his hand through the sleeve, grimacing, "I've got— I've got somewhere to be."

"Um. Jason. Can you— let me go, dude?" Oh, right, there's still the punk guy with green hair that's stuck standing there like a puppet with its strings dead-still. Eric'll probably get to it in a minute or so.

"Yeah, Listen, Jason" He uses that name since the others are calling him that. "You can't even stay upright long enough to get dressed, so turn around, get back in bed and when you tell me what's so important to get you out of bed, I'll decide what I need to do to get you out of here today, instead of tomorrow, deal?"

The guy is asking to be let and that's puzzling the good doctor as his gaze keeps flipping to the poor guy and then to Doyle. It isn't till near the end of his request to the larger man that things really make sense and in the time it takes for whim and intention to fall into place, doyle's negated.

The good doctor's ability comes to bear upon Doyle, and those strings are neatly snipped - allowing the green-haired guy to regain control of himself, nearly tripping before settling back to himself, fingers raking back through his hair as he calls out, apparently not too angry about the situation, "Dude, listen to the doc, he's got a…"

"They have Colette," Eric replies in a sharp hiss of words, glaring back at Brennan as he pushes back off from the wall, "I'm not— I'm not just going to sit here while she's in there, you don't know what they're like!"

"And if Colette was standing here right now, staring at you trying to shamble your way through the house? What would she say then?" Brennan pushes his sleeves up a bit more past his elbow, negation still in effect. He's ready to tackle the guy if he has to, would rather not. "You're going to pop your new stitches and make Megan come down here and help me more, keep me from my family and do more harm than good to you. you're injured Eric, there's nothing that you can do right now. I'm sorry your friend is caught doing whatever it was, that she was doing." There's a murmur over his shoulder for the person who brought him to go grab one of the filled syringes.

"Listen, Eric, I'd like to not sedate you, it's always better for the healing process if you don't. I don't know whomever who's got your friend is like, but I promise, that I will do what I can, to help you help her"

"She wasn't doing anything," Doyle nearly shouts at the other man, glaring at the other person as they run off, looking back at Brennan, "They're… they're experimenting on people, Harve. With drugs, like Refrain, it's the Company. The same bastards that had me locked up for years, but she— she didn't do a damn thing."

A grimace at the threat of sedation, "You know her. You really think she'd tell me to stop? She's like a.. like a damn barnacle, she doesn't give up on anything."

"She'd tell you to sit your ass down in the god damned bed, and let me at least get you properly bandaged and dosed up and make sure that when you walk out of the tunnels here, I wasn't sending you off to die. Listen, Eric, I don't know much of anything, I don't know who this company is, I'm just a friend of Megan's and she asked me to come in. I just look after the kids." Brennan regards the other man, not raising his voice to match Doyle's volume. Wouldn't do good and just probably incite the man. "Go back in the room, and we'll sit, and I'll look you over and you can tell me what's happened to Colette. You know that the girl's strong willed like a badger and that nothings happening to her right now. She was on my service right after the bomb. So what do you say to that Eric? Will fifteen minutes really make a difference?"

Doyle scowls back at the doctor for a moment, then his shoulders slump. "Fine, fine," he rolls his eyes, turning away and muttering under his breath, "Fifteen minutes. I need to get out of here soon, though, god knows what they're doing to her over there…"

Brennan lifts a hand, pointing to the room that Doyle came from. 'Then get on back in there and don't make me use the sedative. I really don't want. And don't you think for a moment i'm going to let up. Good god man, what the hell do you do to other people, pull their stri-" That makes Brennan pause, then break out into laughter. "You are a god damned puppeteer"

"Heh." A brief snort of dark humor from Eric, his shambling step carrying him back through the door and into the room beyond, weight shifting to rest against the bed before he sits upon it, one big hand raising to rub against his face—a bit of blood trickling along his arm from where he tore the IV out. He doesn't say anything more, though, just stares down at the floor grimly.

Brennan follows, new found impression on him with regards to Eric's ability and a purse of lips for the damage he did to himself. "See, you could have waited five minutes and saved yourself a few more holes in your body." Gathering gloves and gauze, supplies to get Doyle properly released from his medical care. "Tell me about what trouble Colette has got herself into this time. It's going to be about fifteen minutes to see if I feel you're ready to go out today. But i'm telling you right now, if I don't Eric, it's for good reason and I need you to respect that. Colette would have my ass and nuts in a vise if I let you go out when I didn't think you were fit for it."

He's already attacking the formerly IV laden arm, slapping gauze down and bending arm to put pressure on and let it clot.

Eric turns his arm over so it can be tended to, his head shaking slowly from side to side. "There's this… this group, they just call themselves the Company?" A look up, his gaze serious, almost frantically so as he watches the doctor's face, "They've been around for years, keeping the whole - Evolved secret and locking up anybody they thought was a threat like they had some.. divine god-damn mandate." He grimaces, glancing away, "Kept me locked up for years. They didn't have any negation pills or drugs or anything back then. They just kept me too nauseous to use my ability, twenty-four seven. Treated me like a— like an animal."

He could brush it off, dismiss it, if Doyle wasn't telling him that he'd been locked up for years. "I negate. That's my evolved ability. If I don't negate you anymore, you promise you won't do to me what you did to the kid in the hallway?" Even thought he kid in the hallways looked like it was par for the course and not frightened.

Clean bandages are cut, tape strips laid out, everything ready to change the patch on his neck and get a good look so that he can give eric his honest opinion. "What are you going to do, if you run out of here? Barrel straight for where she is and hope that if you get to her in time, that you can puppet your way out?"

"Yeah, yeah," Eric replies dismissively to the promise, his good hand rubbing against his face again, "And no, I— there's people getting together, a rescue party. We need to stop this, that Refrain stuff— I mean, I've seen the news, you know?" A look over, gaze haunted, "That stuff isn't good. And they're experimenting with it on people?"

"No, that stuff isn't good. it's the latest in designer drugs to hit the streets with the addiction rate of Heroin. One hit is all it takes and you'll be sucked in. I haven't had any patients, but I've seen the folks who go to the refrai- " He pauses to look at Doyle. "She was going after the uhh.. pastor? She came into the center asking if I'd seen a man, had a picture. He was to the refrain meetings"

He grimaces, realizing now what was stuck up Colette's ass and what she'd done to be caught in her stupidity. "I don't want to know when you are going to ride off like a cowboy to save her, but it's not today Eric. I can let you go, give you a bunch of stuff and prepared changes of bandages, but if they're running off to save her today, you can't be participating. Ideally, not for two or three days. You hear me?"

"I'm going when they do," Doyle replies with a sharp look over, "You can't stop me, Harve. Not unless you sit here all day, every day to keep an eye on me. If they take a… day or two, then fine, but…"

"If they take a day or two, I'll be happy. Happy that it's a day or two more to heal, not happy because that means she's in whomevers hands that much longer" And he must be happy with what he see's because he's sealing fresh white over the stitches after smearing them again with smelly stuff. "You're satisfactory. not ideal, but satisfactory. You get her out and she's hurt, call me." He's digging a pen out of a pocket and scribbling some personal numbers on the back of a reciept.

As usual, Doyle holds still for the tending, although he grimaces, fingers drumming anxiously on the edge of the table. "If she's hurt," he says ominously, "You'll hear about it on the five o'clock news."

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