Participants:
| Scene Title | Caught Blue-Handed |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | While reminiscing with the help of a glowing blue drug, Brian gets an unexpected guest in his room. |
| Date | August 25, 2009 |
The Lighthouse - Brian's Room
Brian, I said I would stay here. And as long as you're here, I'm not going anywhere. I promise.
Brian's hand lifts weakly from the bed, going to grab at something on the dresser. The lamp is the only source of illumination in Brian's room.
Are you sure you can stand me?
Tonight is the last night the Lighthouse is vacant before all the kids rush back in and take up their old places. The last night Brian and Gillian have free reign over the place. One of his copies is already sleeping here, apparently.
I'm sure, Brian.
The half full glowing blue syringe is tapped at by the tips of his fingers. Trying to grasp at it only makes it roll a little further away. Groaning he pulls his body up to reeaach over for the thing.
I love you Kameron.
The syringe is picked up by two fingers as Brian, drags it back towards him.
I l—
The vision ends, smearing and fudging back into reality, Brian lets out a startled cry as the memories die out. He was getting to know this phantom woman so well. Sweat beads down the sides of his face, his bare chest practically leaking. His hair soaked to his skull and his eyes unfocused, fuzzy. "Shit."
His fingers lose the syringe, allowing it to topple down onto the carpet.
There's an extra stream of light in the room as the vision fades. The door to the bedroom has been opened, partially shadowed by a person standing there. The woman may not be the one in the vision, but she's the one sleeping in the room that used to belong to her. "Fuck. Why couldn't I walk in on you jerking off or something," Gillian says, as if that might be a better sight than… what she's seeing. Eyes lower to the syringe on the carpet, then back up at the sweating clone of a man.
"Fuck, Brian, the kids are moving in here tomorrow." Right now they're alone. The one place that Gillian has been able to truly call home since she started moving around crazily almost a year ago. The groaning must have been heard while she walked by, and she stepped to investigate. It doesn't seem as if she knocked, but she may have. Visions can be very distracting.
Forceful steps into the room bring her closer to it, and she's already bending down as if to pick it up.
"Fffff-"
Brian recoils from whoever is coming in, bringing his hands up to guard off the intruder. But then, "You wanna see me jerk off.." It's said plainly, even though it should be asked as a question, he's having a hard time with tones and pitch right now. Reaching over the length of the bed to grab the syringe, his fingers graze against the carpet just as Gillian grabs it.
"Give it back, Gilli." Brian mutters. "I didn't think you were home."
"No, I don't want to see you jerking off, but it might have been better," Gillian growls as she pulls the syringe away from his clumsy self, stepping back quickly to get out of the way. She's betting on him being out of sorts, cause he's much more physically fit than she is.
"I wanted some peace and quiet and I fucking like it here. I didn't think you were— Shit, Brian, this is that Refrain crap, isn't it?"
Cat had made it clear what Refrain was, and what it did, and what it looked like. And the memo that went around had said in very bold letters not to use it.
"How long has this been going on?"
"Give it back." The repetition is a little quiet, as if he already knows that she's not going to give into the request, but its asked anyway. He resigns himself to his fate and flops back onto his pillow anyway, letting his arms dangle out. "Listen Gilli. It's not like that. I have holes in my memory." He lets out in little huffs.
"The company took away what is mine, how else can I get it back? You would do the same thing." The justification is delivered in a way that sounds like he knows its a weak argument. And knows that she'll counter him rather quickly. "I'm not addicted."
The syringe isn't handed back over, but Gillian gives him a long look as he falls back against his pillow, sweaty with his stolen memories and things that he lost. Would she have done the same? "No, of course you're not addicted to it. No one is, are they? But we have nearly a dozen kids, who are moving into this house tomorrow for good. And you're— "
Shooting up. Even if part of her can understand the need for memories, lost things. She doesn't have holes, but a month ago she had a pristine memory, where she could recall everything perfectly… and now she doesn't…
"If this can bring back your memories, then there's other ways to do it," she says, taking the syringe and laying it on a far dresser so she doesn't accidentally stab herself. "If you're not addicted, then where's your stash?"
A coarse cough is let out. "What makes you think I have a stash?" The question is more accusational in tone, as if Gillian was the one in the wrong here. Rather than being the one catching him shooting up. "I.." Pushing against the bed with his two hands, he places his back against the headboard. His eyes float up to watch Gillian, "Not like I'm going to let this affect my performance."
He brings one hand up to dab at his nose. "You said you didn't like him." Winters murmurs quietly. Fulk. "Why not?"
"Cause I doubt one syringe is enough to fill all the holes in your memory," Gillian says, watching him for a moment, before looking back at the one syringe she caught him with. Perhaps she's in the wrong, but she doesn't seem to think so.
"I barely knew him," she adds after a moment. "I didn't dislike him, I just didn't know him. The only time we really spent time together was when I tried to augment his ability so he could try to reconnect with you. Apparently you kicked his ass, but that was the last time we'd really seen each other except in passing. The only time we really hung out alone." It wasn't so much that she didn't like him. She just… didn't know why she should have.
"I came here the night he was killed to try and fix that, to get to know him." But that… became the night he was killed instead. "Where is it, Brian?"
"Well good thinkin.." His legs slowly swing over to the side of the bed. Hunching forward his elbows go to prop against his knees, his head hanging down. Bringing up one hand he wipes away at the sweat at his brow. Then reaches over his shoulder to itch itch itch at the tattoo there. Letting his arm drop, he glances over at Gillian.
Slinging a finger at her he gives a grunt. "In the wall behind you. There's a loose panel. And there's some downstairs, built into the stairs. And some at the top of the tower… And some under my truckbed." He pauses, letting his finger fall down. "And one in the back of my toilet. In there." He stabs a thumb over his shoulder. "They all have guns with them. Except the toilet one."
"Really don't go slim, do you," Gillian says, shaking her head a bit as she looks at the wall behind her, trying to look for the panel, to see how obvious it is. A house full of guns and stashes of drugs now. Definitely not the place to try to raise children, but the same could be said for Staten and New York City in general. It's a dangerous place. As the children and the people who are trying to run it have found out.
"How does this affect your clones? Do all of them get high or just one of you?" There's a quiet sound of a sigh, her eyes closing. There's a frown, a sad expression. "Have you found out about yourself, at least?"
"Just one body." Brian murmurs, watching her quietly. The panel is not obvious at all. Brian is nothing but thourough. She would need to slap around the wall a bit to find the hollow spot. Once found though it is somewhat easily removed. "You just need to push the top in, then it slides out." It's a defeated tone, "I don't get everything. Just the good stuff. Most of it is memories of Kameron. And then my own memories. Veronica. And.." A small cough is let out. "Meeting you."
It takes a few moments, but Gillian touches the wall until she finds the spot, pushing it in a bit and sliding it out as instructed. It would be difficult for the children to find. Hair falls into her face as she looks around at the contents, before turning to face her brother. "Meeting me? Which time?" There's a quiet laugh, before she shakes her head. "We did meet a couple times." Some good, some not so good. The first actual meeting had been awkward… Because he popped out a dozen naked hims.
"My memories. Meeting you and finding out you were my sister." A harsh cough is let out, his hand coming up in feeble resistance to the saliva that splatters out. He glances over at the wall. "Throw it away. And don't tell me where you threw it." Winters informs quietly yet firmly, going to turn his head from his sister. "I'm sorry Gilli… I love you."
"That was a good memory… One of the few good things to come out of Pinehearst and all their shitty manipulations," Gillian says quietly, looking back toward her brother. Finding one thing in her life could be made real had been one of the few bright points in the midst of losing so much. It'd been a difficult time for her— it'd been a difficult time for him, too. "I love you too," she adds, looking back at the stash, and then toward Winters. "I'll get rid of it for you." Not that he can't easily get more if he wants it… The sheer amount he has shows her that. "You're supposed to be the strong one, Brian."
Another harsh cough is let out. He sighs quietly as she returns the sentiment, one hand going to press against his neck. His other hand goes out and rests against the bed, his fingers unfolding and directed at her, beckoning her to come sit with him. He lets out a loose groan when she points out that he is supposed to be the strong one. "I'm sorry."
His shoulders sag, whole body practically deflating at those words that opened hand recoiling slightly as if it was struck. "I know." He whispers, bringing up his hands to press agains the sides of his head. "I know." A deep breath is taken. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry Gilli. I will be."
Leaving the stash in the wall, Gillian makes her way over to settle down beside him on the bed. "You look like shit," she says, reaching up to touch his hands against his head, so she can pull it down and hold onto him. No surge of energy, just her hand touching his. "You wouldn't be the first person in this family to use drugs… or get a tattoo," she says quietly, looking toward the area he'd been scratching. "We must have the same taste, too…"
Moving her hand around, she shows off the inside of her wrist. Like many of her tattoos, it's mangled in some manner. This one has a scar through it, though, an actual scar. The skin healed clean of the tattoo. But the yin/yang tattoo with a vaguely tribal and spiral design looks very much like his own. "We're twins, right? We probably have a lot in common."
"You ever hear those stories of how twins can like find each other or just like know what each other is thinking?" Another cough is let out, his hand weakly clinging to hers. His body slowly sags to lean over on hers. Then he thinks about what she just said. Pursing his lips he considers what the best thing to say is. Being that he was just caught shooting up, he takes a more indirect route. "Make sure you throw it away quick, Gilli."
"I hope you got a discount buying in bulk, cause it's all going into the river," Gillian assures, wrapping an arm around him as she closes her eyes. Twins could possibly know what the other is thinking… "Are you going to be okay? You don't need to see a doctor or anything, do you?" she asks, pressing him closer against him. Was it the stuff he shot into himself that's messed him up, or the guilt of having been caught practically with a needle in his arm?
"I got it for free." Some he beat up a drug dealer for, other was courtesy of Doctor Bao Wei Cong. "So don't worry about it." Another harsh cough. "I'm gonna be fine.. Just some lay down. I can." His head cranes over to rest on top of her head. "I can just.." He gives a shrug, shaking his head. "Maybe I should just lay down, I forgot what I was going to say."
"Yeah, it sounds like you should lay down," Gillian says quietly, leaning in closer to kiss him on his sweaty temple. "Just in case, lock your door if you ever decide to jerk off, okay? Cause I really don't want to walk in on that no matter what I said." But she would have just gone 'Oh god, I don't want to see that' rather than give him a disappointed face. It would have been easier on them both, in the end, probably. "Lay down and get some sleep. I'll clear out the stash in here, and then the ones under the stairs and up in the tower."