Participants:
Starring as Sleeping Beauty:
| Scene Title | Beauty And The Beast |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | His daughter may not be home in her body, but Benjamin still comes to see her bearing simple Christmas gifts. |
| Date | December 25, 2010 |
He stands there in the darkened room, listening to the machines that monitor the body of his youngest daughter. Blue eyes are barely seen in the darkness as they study the comatose state of Delia. Benjamin Ryans has finally found the courage to visit his daughter's body. Only her body cause her mind is lost in dreams.
It hurts to be standing there, which is why he's avoided going there in the first place.
He hates feeling helpless, especially when it comes to his daughters. It feels like a failure him standing there and her still being out. There was a time he had people and resources at his finger tips that could have aided in getting her mind back where it belongs.
Now he has nothing, but his two hands and a gun.
A glance goes towards the door, lips pressed together knowing there is a Brian stationed out there. At least he saw the duplicator on the island, even if only in passing. It is still rather surreal to see a clone there.
In his hands he clutches an old and worn, hard bound book. The corners are worn and frayed, as if it's been read many times over. He clutches it tightly in his fingers as he moves to sit on the edge of the bed, studying Delia's sleep slackened features.
With her like that, she looks so young, making it easy to see the tiny girl with her unicorn comforter, bright smile, tightly wound curls. He can even hear the high pitched squeal of, "Read to me daddy!" while cuddling a stuffed animal.
His jaw clenches and he closes his eyes against a stab of emotional pain.
Memories were cruel like that.
He looks at the book in his hands — the cover is embossed with the title 'Beauty and the Beast' — and for a moment, he looks like he might leave again, his courage fleeing him again when there is a curious prickling of his eyes. He can't afford to cry. The raw emotions that churn within him, put a strain on his voice. "There have been very rare moments in my life that are not filled with strife and danger, even now I can't escape it." He starts softly, his voice a soft rumble, that big cat like purr of a sound.
"Danger. That I understand. Not wide eyed girls that want to climb all over me while watching morning cartoons or beg to curl up in bed with me when the thunderstorms roll through." A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, but falls away quickly.
"Your mother never understood how you got me to read this book to you. I told her… you girls are a weakness and you knew how to use it." The book in his hands is not the book, but… that's not the point. The story is still the same. "It took us absolutely forever to read it, cause I was gone so much." He looks at his daughter as if he'd expect to see her eyes roll and a 'Daaaaaddy'. "No matter how long it took, you were determined I was going to read this book to you." He goes silent that ghost of a smile returning at the memory.
"You were — are so much like your mother that way." Ben hasn't given up on her coming back, despite what people might think of him. He huffs a soft chuckle and reaches out to gently place the book on the table next to her. "I still remember when we finished the book finally, you tried to reason it out, even once stating that it made you think of me and your mom." Fingers run over the cover of the book, a fingertip running along the edge of one flap of the cover. The look of amusement flickers across his features. "No truer words were ever spoken…. except— " His hand falls away from the book, fingers seeking out her hand, careful of the IV's.
"— I guess I never stopped being a beast."
He gives her hand a squeeze and lets go so that he can unzip his jacket, a brown one not like his trench coat. He tugs open one side enough, so that he can extract a dark red silk rose, in the low light, there is almost a sort of sparkle to it. He holds it between forefinger and thumb and studies it. "Not much of a Christmas present, Lia… but —" He sets the rose on top of the book gently, the velvet petals glint as if sprinkled with a fine dusting of gold. "If I gave you a real one it could be dead by time you woke, and this one seems to shimmer like the rose in the book…."
He trails off and suddenly looks embarrassed. "Guess I'm getting to be a sentimental old fool."
Benjamin doesn't snatch it away again, but leaves it there as he talks, "I know who Bradley is now. I passed him your message, by the way." If she had been awake, a part of him imagines the look of shock on her face. "He's my son, but very much his mother. Seems to think I don't care what happens to you." Not true in the slightest, but…
"I am use to a physical threat. Something I can get my hands on or shoot. This…" Ryans motions to the prone form with a sigh. "This is beyond me, I feel helpless. I'm weak." He doesn't handle weak well.
"I'm a danger to you, Delia." His voice catches and his lips press together, pulling into a frown… he doesn't want to show emotions right now. His fingers curl gently around her hand again, careful as if it might break if he squeezes too hard. "I may have been Company and hunted evolved, but even I have weaknesses."
A long silence fills the room, before he murmurs something he thinks is an ugly truth. "I was manipulated in my dreams, sweetheart… and now the Institute has a way to find you." Taking a deep breath he tries not to let those hard hitting emotions rule him. " They have a trail to follow. The man that is suppose to protect you — me — may have led the bad guys to you." Tips of his fingers rub at his forehead, weary in his worry. "Bradley doesn't understand… Can't. He hasn't lived this life, watched people you care about killed or hurt, because you were weak."
"I'm not sure I can explain it to him. He has to live it."
It pains him to admit that, but it's the truth. Another glance is slowly turned to the door again, head tilting bit listening. Habit really. "I shouldn't linger. Brian is out there waiting to sleep again. He's your best bet right now, not me." His fingers slowly slide from her hand. "I'll just get you hurt."
Fingers that have killed countless often with no real remorse, gently brush red curls from her forehead, all so that he can lean down and kiss her forehead. He stays bent there, as his whispers softly, "Never doubt that I love you, kiddo. I do, even when it seems like I don't."
He lingers only a few moments longer before turning away. His voice catches again when he turns back and whispers, "Merry Christmas, sweetie. Come home soon." He takes a step towards the door and whispers a promise, "I'll come see you again."