A Speedy's Recovery


brennan_icon.gif daphne_icon.gif

Scene Title A Speedy's Recovery
Synopsis Brennan checks in on one of his patients who has little hope — before hope reveals itself.
Date April 9, 2010

Brick House

There's less sounds of a symphony in her chest. The metal disc of the stethoscope, his fingers gently moving it to a different spot along the speedster's back with a request for her to breath in deep. "You're sounding better. Wish I could say much better, but.. you're getting better. Lungs still leave much to be desired but your body might finally be having this thing on the run" Brennan informs Daphne, pulling away and letting the back of her shirt drop down comfortable.

"Hows the hallucinations. Still see the Asian man? Any ability back at all, even a flicker?" Brennan eases back, dropping the stethoscope over his shoulders and grasping both ends to just wait and listne, watch.

The tiny speedster leans back when he's through listening, head resting against the wall and she smiles slightly. She's feeling better but there's still a somberness there that was not there when they first met in the museum. "I haven't had hallucinations for a couple of days now. I guess my fever isn't frying my brain anymore. How many brain cells you think I fried?" she asks, lightly, lips pulling into her trademark smirk, even if the humor doesn't quite reach her dark eyes.

"No power yet. Is it true some people aren't …" Aren't getting their powers back, after recovering? She can't bring herself to say it aloud.
"Hmm, depends on how many you had in the first place" Spoken with the seriousness that means he's completely joking. "Fever's a defense mechanism of the body. It's usually the major signal that somethings wrong and the body is fighting something. I think you have most of your brain cells intact. Probably no worse than a night of drinking"

Down onto a chair he eases though, leaning forward so he can balance his elbows on his knee's and rub his hands together. "You want the truth daphne or do you want placating and me to say that you'll be right as rain in no time, as if none of this had happened before? Because I can do that"

Daphne snorts a little when he teases her about her number of brain cells, but sombers again as he offers to lie to her. She gives a shake of her head — her hair has seen better days, shaggier than usual and dark roots showing, since she hasn't gotten it bleached for so long.

"To be honest with you, I was pretty damn sure I was going to die. And part of me is sure that my ability's gone for good. Karma, or something, you know? I didn't do good things with it. I almost killed someone with it. I don't deserve to keep it." She looks down at her legs, and then back up at him. "So nothing you would tell me that's true would really … surprise me, Doc."

"There's a chance. Some people, apparently haven't gotten their abilities back. But, this is all new and they're learning more about it each day and with those sick with H5N10 on Roosvelt, they're able to track it's prognosis. You're not going to die, I'm pretty sure you would have by now if you were. That you're trending towards getting better, is a positive sign Daphne. So, Karma aside…"

The mention of Roosevelt gets a dark scowl from the speedster. "You make it sound like they're doing good work on Roosevelt, but we all ran like scared cattle or something. If everyone was there willingly, I'd be happier about the fact they're learning more about this flu, but how many people who didn't want to be rounded up do they have there?" she asks, reaching up to tuck a too-long lock of platinum hair out of her eyes. Without thinking, she draws her legs, beneath the sheets, up toward her chest — without the use of her hands to pull them up. Her eyes shift from Brennan to her knees, mouth dropping open.

"I'm not one to discuss the immoral or moral implications that come from getting people to come in for treatment for an illness that is forty percent fatal. That Daphne, is the fatality rate of this illness. Else was damn near deaths door with nothing that the ferry could do for them, even if I was able to get access to my medical equipment proper and medicines"

A glance to her legs prompt him to slide forward, pull down the sheets. 'Wriggle your toes"

Forty percent. Better odds than Vegas, maybe, but still not the kind you want when dealing with your life. She really could have died. She swallows audibly but stares down at her legs. "I can move them a little even when I can't walk — I'm not totally paralyzed, it's just… the muscles don't respond right." she says, though she does wiggle her toes. She slowly stretches out one leg, clearly having control over the muscle, before bringing it back to the bent position, then moves the other. "They feel weak though," she adds. Too much bed rest results in some atrophy, though not enough to be clearly visible. She'd moved the muscles some, if awkwardly.

Because unlike the others, Daphne can't just up and get around for a bit like the others have been made to do, willing to do. "We'll get others to help you, we'll get you up and get you moving, or you can do it with the crutches, lets start testing your mobility and get you going. It can only do good" He offers a smile, checking muscle tone and carefully checking movement. "More on the road to wellness than before. What are you going to do when you're better? Where you going to run off to?"

She slips to the edge of the bed, putting a foot down to test its weight. "When it went out before, it kinda … flickered. I don't trust it to stay," she says quietly, not quite having the faith to believe that she will be 100 percent better — even with time. "It could go out again, right?" she asks, looking down at her legs in their plaid pajama bottoms. "I don't know. Away from this winter shit, though," she adds, glancing out the window to the snowy outside. "Maybe to Paris. I told Francois I'd bring him there for crepes," she says with a smile. "Though I doubt he'd actually take me up on it. I'll go anyway, no matter what. Anywhere… it almost doesn't matter. Just…"

Her voice cracks on the last word: "Away."

"I was vaccinated, had weak moments, supposedly. It'll come and go for now likely, but if you're showing signs of being able to use it, then you're not going to loose it permanently, I would think." He offers a hand out for her to take to help her stand. "France is beautiful. I should have been there already this year, we go once a year at least, visit the in laws and let the girls run around. Take Michelle out for a shopping spree. I'm going to have no vacation time when I come back thanks to all this"

Daphne takes the proffered hand and bites her lower lip before pushing off the bed, finding her legs do in fact hold her scant weight, knees no longer knocking, feet no longer pigeoning in the wrong way. She holds her breath, as if waiting for it to all collapse beneath her, for the rug to be pulled out from under her, though there is some hope in her eyes when he mentions it not being lost if she's gotten it back at all.

"Anything you want me to pick up for you in Paris if I go?" she asks, a little breathlessly — perhaps the first hopeful thing she's said in days.
"Bring us back some real baguette's when you come back with the Docteur" He proffers, letting go of her to let her stand on her own but hovering near just in case she gets a flicker or loss. Inevitable likely, but it's good for someone's ego to be able to do something they've wanted to do, that they rely on to do their day to day life.

"Nothing for Michelle? I can grab her something," Daphne says with a grin as she takes a slow step forward, and then another, legs holding her. She doesn't mention paying for the item, but Brennan doesn't know she's a thief. She walks slowly to the far side of the room and back, her eyes wet when she returns to him. One hand reaches up to wipe her eyes and she lowers her head and laughs huskily. "I … don't want to push it by trying to move faster but I think," she presses her full lips together in a thoughtful pose for a moment, "I think it's there."

"Maybe just get used to walking again first, before you try to yodel ondelay and arriba and making a pass for a sombrero huh?" Brennan gestures for her to get back to bed, shaking out some more ibuprofen for her and the glass of water. "I should check on the others instead of hording my time with you. Have to check in on my girl too. I'll probably have to take off in a day or two but, you and the others seem to be on the road to recovery despite the early morning boat trip the other day"

"Do superfast Mexican mice yodel? That seems like a bit of culture class, Doc," Daphne says as she climbs back in bed of her own accord, the smile on her face finally lighting up her dark eyes. She accepts the pills and the water, downing the one to chase with the other. "I didn't come with the others. I had my own boat ride by my lonesome. Felt like the River Styx to be honest, but Joseph was a welcomer sight than Hades. At least if he was in my afterlife, I musta done something right, right?"

"Musta done something right if the former preachers waiting to welcome you to the underworld" Brennan grins, one side of his mouth up a bit more than the other, helping tuck her in. "No skipping out on the ferry without a clean bill of health from Doctor Francois" He grabs again, one side of his stethoscope, turning away and walking off, presumably to look in on the others, and do that doctor thing that he and Francois do so well.

"Thanks, Doc. If I don't see you, I'll catch up with you sometime…" the words 'catch up' make her smile, as Daphe closes her eyes. She might be on the road to recovery, but just the quick (albeit slow) spin around the room has left her exhausted and in need of rest — a peaceful rest, with no dreams of bleeding Japanese men or worries of death, for the first time in weeks.

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