Participants:
| Scene Title | Clinically Insane |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | At least he believes she is — and there's not a thing he can do about it. |
| Date | June 27, 2011 |
Phillip's Apartment
It's not as if getting around a city this size is hard. And when you know the city as well as a woman who used to be a street cop does it's even easier. Elisabeth is able to get to the building where Phillip has purchased his new apartment without much trouble, and when the doorman is busy getting a taxi for one of the other residents she slips into the building behind him. Up the stairs and to the door that is supposedly his apartment is just a quick hike. And she doesn't let herself in this time. Instead Elisabeth knocks politely, her hair tucked into a simple baseball cap to cover the streaks and to shield her face a bit. She could be anyone as far as the cameras are concerned.
Moments later, Phillip is heard approaching the door while talking on his cell, "…yes, I want Donaldson to take care of all that. I really don't care how much it costs, just don't go over budget…"
Opening the door reveals that Phillip is dressed in a thick white terrycloth robe that hangs below his knees. Bare feet and his hair seems recently wet from a shower. He even smells of 'clean'.
He wasn't expecting the arrival; but when he recognizes Liz, he says into the phone, "I gotta go." then will click off and stand there a moment while he assertains the presence. Then says quietly, "You still look amazing."
Besides the Yankees baseball cap, Elisabeth's wearing a pair of denim capris and a sleeveless blue T-shirt. Nothing out of the ordinary at all. When her blue eyes meet his there is a wariness to them, though his words bring wistful half-smile to her features. "Thank you," she responds softly. She shifts her weight uncomfortably. "I understand that you had a visitor the other day. I, uhm… didn't realize that when I told them the funding fell through that he'd have still been trying to get hold of you. I'm sorry."
He cares nothing for her words of regret and all those pesky details. In essence, he even forgot about the former visitor and thought little of it since. Instead, Phillip quietly grows to realize that he still has a thing for Liz. Instead of hiding, deflecting, or misplacing it, he simply notes in a matter of fact (here's the skinny) tone, "You're standing in my doorway again. If you come inside, I may be inclined to kiss you. If you leave, then we're back to where we were 15 minutes ago."
A puzzled expression crosses her face, and Elisabeth's brows pull into a bit of a frown. "Really." The statement is a dry one. She tests both ideas out in the back of her head, and she says quietly, "If I step in that door and you kiss me, whatever comes after is on you." And then she puts a hand out to very gently push backward — because she came to talk and not in the hallway.
Phillip is guided backward with Liz's entry. He rotates to the side and closes the door after her passing. "Can I get you something to drink?" he queries now that the ground rules have been established.
Now she smiles faintly at him. Elisabeth's brows are still pulled together in a faint furrow of thoughtful consternation but she nods. "Water, please?" She precedes him into the living room only because she figures it's unlikely that he'll go first — he's a gentleman, after all. But she turns to face him absently nibbling a corner of her lip as she watches him. "I seem to continue to have impeccable timing," she observes mildly. She seems to find him coming out of the shower often.
The apartment/condo is laid out like any other ultra posh apartment or condo. An entryway with coat closet, then beyond that there is the expanse of a living area that extends into an open kitchen and semi walled dining experience beyond. The room is done in contemporary colors and styles with the modern luxuries tucked away and intermingled nicely. Phillip lets her move ahead and examine and when she pauses he will pass her in route to the kitchen. "Oh, you mean you catch me mostly nude. I figured that was your plan."
Elisabeth considers that and admits, "It's a damn nice perk. But no. Wasn't the plan." She pauses and then says, "I got the note." She doesn't seem to know what else to say to him in that moment. Perhaps in some ways she's not even sure about being here.
The fridge is opened, he retrieves two bottles of water and returns. The tops of the bottles are of the pop open style, dasani.
Returning and offering, he takes his time before addressing that subject, and finally he relates it to the present, "We've had a lot of water under our bridges. And it was good to establish boundaries."
Taking the bottle when he offers it, Elisabeth uses the moments of silence to take in the apartment and its ambience. When he speaks again her eyes come back to him immediately, giving him the courtesy of her undivided attention. "I'm not sure I'd say the boundaries are any clearer now than they were before to be frank," she murmurs. Considering he greeted her with the comment about kissing her. "I'm … not sure whether we're going to be friends, partners, or … merely a memory."
Phillip smiles as he begins to break from her heading toward a hallway that will expand into various other rooms of the condo. He makes a statement in his departure, "We know how you are with your memory." in an attempt at humor.
"I'm only missing a decade. Sure, it's a formative one, but still," Elisabeth objects mildly, following him down the hall. She seems to take it pretty much as teasing, giving back what he offers. "I'd think you'd be glad I can't remember how many times you were a dork."
Phillip enters the bedroom, then moves into the walk-in. A familiar sight of his nude bottom is offered as he removes and hangs the robe to the side then reaches to take under articles of clothing. "Funny thing about that, you're the only one who I allowed to see that side of me."
"Is that bad?" Elisabeth asks easily, leaning a shoulder on the bedroom doorway and crossing her arms. She talks to him from there, offering a modicum of privacy at least — she's not ogling his bare behind. Well… maybe a tiny bit. But she does try not to make it obvious that he still has the power to draw her eyes. "I'd rather it doesn't cause us any additional issues."
Wearing his plaid boxers and a wife beater, he steps out of the closet with a hanger in each hand. The right demonstrating something with jeans and a polo, the left kakki slacks and a blue dress shirt.
"Issues like? What side of the bed you'd like to wake up on tomorrow morning?" is questioned with a playful grin then without hesitation he asks, "Casual or /casual/?" holding up the articles in question.
Elisabeth snorts. "I don't know what's on your agenda for the day — why're you always asking me what you should wear?" she asks with a shake of her head. She nods toward the jeans, though. The smile doesn't quite reach her blue eyes. "You already know what side of the bed I sleep on," she points out.
"I'd suggest change. But that would only bring about odd dreams." Phillip says as he comments about the side of the bed chosen. Which is something he initially assumes she remembers while he places the not so casual hanger back on the nearest rung and will begin dismanteling the chosen articles so that he may dress.
"Considering the kinds of dreams that I have these days, Phillip, I sincerely doubt you want to invite that," Elisabeth replies gently. "Anyway… so, uhm…. Graeme said something that surprised me. That you were assuming the project was only on hold. Why?" When in doubt about how to handle things, she reverts to business.
"More like 'I put it on hold'. Meaning I didn't cancel contracts or appropriations. I sat things aside to see how it all played out." Phillip states in a business tone then after he's pulled up his pants and pulling over his shirt he states in a reflective tone, "It was Thanksgiving, ummmm, probably 93(?). You and I had gotten into a fight over something stupid. Essentially you had it in your head that something was going to happen a certain way, and I clearly thought the opposite. We got into a yelling match sometime that afternoon. Our moms disappeared into the kitchen, or dad's sat there prentending to watch the game." . he has more story, but he pauses to give reflective time.
A single brow quirks upward, and Elisabeth looks interested. She hesitates to ask, though, wariness in her expression. "What happened?" she finally asks, unable to contain her curiosity.
In his pause, Phillip smiles as he looks back into the distant memory. Tucking in his shirt, then zipping and buttoning, he grabs a pair of socks from a nearby drawer and then begins walking toward Liz.
"You were so pissed at me. Anyway. We really didn't sort anything out, and I thought we were broken up - for good. So did our parents. I think there was at least 4 attempts at an intervention between then and Christmas Break. We both went back to school, kept our distance. Not even sure we spoke on the phone. I wrote a few letters. You did too. But when the semester was over, you showed up on my door step. Came inside. Stepped into my personal space and before I knew it, you were kissing me."
He stands before her, inches away. His right hand moves to her cheek, his left to her hip. "It was like all the tension left the room, like the stupidity was resolved in that kiss. It didn't matter in the first place. It was just us being, us. Hung up on things that don't matter…" and with that he will move to kiss her.
She listens to the explanation, and when he explains that she was pissed at him and they didn't speak for a long while Elisabeth smiles just a little. It sounds familiar. She continues to give him her undivided attention, though, and when he stops in front of her, she tips her head to look up at him. It's not as if he's not telegraphing his intentions, but she doesn't retreat from him. There is remembered hurt in the expression on her face, still a caution that says her trust is not restored. But as he kisses her, Elisabeth meets him halfway at least, pushing her shoulder off the doorway so she's not leaning as she returns the kiss.
The light touch turns into an embrace as he increases the depth of their kiss. His heart can be heard beating, she always got his heart beating. His breath deeper and longer. Then, just as it came, the kiss slows, his lips meet hers a few last times just in passing then he will pull her to his chest and stand in the doorway with her keeping her close.
Her arms come uncrossed, the unconsciously defensive posture easing and her hands slipping to rest at his waist mid-kiss. Elisabeth makes no move to turn it into something else, though she too gets caught up enough in the heat that seems to generate between them to be breathless when he slowly releases her lips. Standing with him in the doorway to his bedroom her forehead drops to his chest, her face hidden from his eyes. Her jaw clenches for a long moment, and she just hugs him tightly.
Moments later, he finally comes around to speaking, "Dinner?" is queried to see if she's hungry or perhaps the next course of action. Then follows it with , 'or?'." giving her the option to come up with another suggestion."
There's a soft huff of laughter and Liz looks up at him. "You're always trying to feed me. Are you trying to tell me I'm too skinny?" Clearing her throat a bit, she says, "Dinner would be lovely, thank you." There's still a hint of her uncertainty to the reply, but she seems willing enough to let their bygones be just that. "You, uhm… Is it your turn to choose or mine?" she asks, attempting to reclaim their friends footing at the very least.
Breaking from her he'll direct her toward the kitchen area of the condo. Then in a humorous tone Phillip starts conveying a story which could be true or false, "Remember the last time we … <hand motion of the in-out> … Our pelvic bones hit over and over. I was sore down there for days." and he grins broadly as if he's trying to get a rise out of her.
"What?" Elisabeth's head jerks around in alarm and then she eyes his face. "Liar," she asserts, shaking her head. "Dear God, Phillip, here you've got me thinking I freakin' well broke you. You're such a dork," she adds on a laugh. Heading into the kitchen, she starts nosing around to see what he's got in the fridge. "We could have breakfast for dinner, or I can toss together…. oooh, shrimp! Scampi would be easy enough. Or you've got the ingredients for a good cream sauce and we could have shrimp alfredo."
"That sounds great. Speaking of cheese…" Phillip notes while going to the pantry and starting to pull out various ingredients, "…do you still like bree… or was it provolone?"
"Both," Elisabeth replies with a smile. And she starts pulling out the ingredients to make supper for them both. They can talk over dinner, she figures. Perhaps recapture the ease of talking.
After dinner, sitting on the balcony with glasses of wine and the evening cityscape painted along the horizon, Phillip queries, "So tell me about him. Other than being the corner-stone of your existence."
Well… that was the last thing Elisabeth expected to be asked. She'd been sitting quietly, comfortable with the glass of wine and relaxed after dinner, blue eyes skimming the city laid out in front of them. Until those words passed his lips, and then she tenses slightly. She doesn't speak until after she takes a long swallow of the wine in her glass. "What do you want to know?" A faint smile quirks one side of her mouth. "I think you took that statement in a bit more… literal fashion than I may have meant it, frankly. But… " She trails off, letting him define the information he wants from her.
"Well that's good to hear. It gives me confidence that you're not as psycho as the statement implies." Phillip states with a slight grin but follows in a more serious tone, "What's he like? Start with an archetype and show how he's like that typecast."
"I'm afraid you're a bit over my head there — start with an archetype?" Elisabeth chuckles. "I don't even know what the list of archetypes is all together, but the one that would spring to my mind is probably 'Reluctant Hero.'" Elisabeth shrugs. "He's a criminal — a thief, to be precise. And up until a couple of years ago, he didn't really give a damn about anyone but himself. And then he stumbled on a few nuggets of information and got yanked into this fight that most people don't even realize is happening. He saw something that needed doing, he saw situations where his skills would help the people he knew… and in spite of not really believing that he'll benefit from his own actions, he stepped up to the plate and helped. Helped people I knew. Helped me. And somewhere along the way, I looked around and realized I'd done the stupid and fallen for the guy." She smiles faintly. "He tends to look out for himself and those he considers his first and foremost, or so he'd tell you — enlightened self-interest.
But I've watched him on several occasions throw himself in the line of fire for someone he hardly knew or didn't know at all, so while he's definitely not a nice man… I'd consider him a good man." Is that what he's asking? She doesn't know.
"Harmony mentioned that he 'took off'? Something about no longer being around? What's that all about?" Phillip asks after absorbing her assessment and taking a sip from his glass.
Heh… that's getting into complicated territory there. "Well… assuming you believe me about the idea that my son is a time traveler from the future, which honestly isn't the most far-fetched thing that's happened to me, sad to say," Elisabeth replies dryly, "the basic jist of it is that…. in a future that will no longer come to pass, Richard made some bad decisions revolving around me that our son takes exception to. And being as we're in a time period right now where everything was able to be changed… Joshua decided to take it upon himself to change it all. By erasing Richard from the picture." Her tone is flat. She's… perturbed. "Luckily his friends didn't think allowing him to kill his father was the best course of action. So he was evacuated to somewhere else … somewhen else. And we don't know if he'll make it back." She sips her wine, eyes still on the cityscape waiting for his next question. It seems as if she's decided to answer whatever questions he wishes to ask of her.
"When you and I were /done/." Phillip starts off then pauses while formulating the next sentence, "I really thought that it was just a /thing/." Then he pauses again and says, "I suppose I should start over since you really don't remember any of it.
Now she looks toward him curiously. "That'd be helpful," Elisabeth admits with a faint smile.
"Spring Break, our last spring break together. We only had a year left of college and we were working out the details of how it would play out. I had plans of coming back to the island and working for my dad. You seemed like you wanted to go into the legal side of things. I'm not sure you were into law enforcement just yet. Or maybe it was an idea in the back of your head. But ultimately none of that mattered. We just wanted to be together."
"The summer was right around the corner and we were pondering Australia as the great summer escape. Our dads wanted us to do an internship underneath them - neither of us wanted to do that. There had been some weirdness months before between your dad and you, never really figured it out.
"Anyway, we were having dinner at this place in the lower Manhattan - I'll never forget - Renaults. A posh place that closed down right before 9/11.
The conversation seemed strained., it was our last night together and the week had been filled with unfinished sentences. Like we couldn't decide on the future." - he gives pause reviewing the memory.
Elisabeth listens thoughtfully sipping her wine. Whatever she may or may not know about that time comes from secondhand information, so she says nothing for now. This man lived it with her, so she's interested in his perspective. Blue eyes study him quietly, giving him room to continue.
"Looking back, I think that was the week that you wanted me to ask you to marry you. I was planning on it being that summer. I'd already asked your dad the month before, he was supportative. But it had to be a long engagement. When we graduated the following year was the /earliest/ we could have gotten married. His rule."
"You seemed stressed or something. Miffed that I'd not asked. Maybe your dad let on that I was going to ask and perhaps I was getting cold feet or changed my mind. Even though the week was filled with plans about the summer. Maybe because I hadn't asked you thought I was still some playboy with all my girls back at school - even though I never had any, it was just the circles I traveled in. They were all looking for the Ms degree and I seemed like an easy target since you were at a different school and never seen."
"So, I said something that set you off. Not even sure what it was or what the context was. But you started questioning everything, like whether or not I had been faithful, that maybe we shouldn't be in a relationship that's so serious because we still really didn't know what we wanted out of life."
"I was caught way off guard. I had no idea where any of it was coming from. And then you used the words, "Maybe we should just take a break." —- from the relationship."
"You then walked off. Caught a cab and it was like a freaky dream. My legs were stuck to the pavement. I couldn't speak. It wasn't until you were a block away before I said your name.
"Back then, your words were solid. You said what you meant, you didn't hide or try to hide anything. You were up front and when you said something you didn't take it back."
A brow shoots up. "We were thinking of getting married?" Elisabeth asks, clearly startled. She isn't sure how to take that piece of information and her brows pull together. It's like trying to put a jigsaw puzzle together without any idea what the original picture looked like. "I…. " A nibble of her lip. "I don't know what to say, Phillip," she admits. "I, uhm… maybe I was afraid to tell you I didn't believe in getting married?" It's a guess. "I don't really believe in marriage now, and maybe I was just learning about that then….?" She smiles just a little. "These days, just so you know, I'm still pretty up front. And though it may be a personality flaw, I still rarely take things back."
"Oh you believed in marriage. It was the picket fence, the pony, you wanted two daughters and maybe a son… if he didn't turn out like me." A smirk comes across Phillip's face. We were going to live in the city during the short week and live in the Hamptons in the long weekends. Basically working only 4 days a week."
"Sophia and Elaine or Emma." He says revealing the proposed names for the daughters. Then silently chuckles, but not a happy chuckle.
Phillip then segues back to the story, "A week later I came back, spoke to your mom. She didn't have good advice for me. She said to give you space. So I did. That semester I came home a few times hoping to run into you - by accident. Never happened. Instead I ran into Tiffany Watson. She seemed so supportative. Wanting me to give you time, to not give up hope or what ever a girl tells a guy whom she wants to get into bed with.
"Then it happened. Or didn't happen. We crossed that point where the emotional focus of the event changed from the former to the present. She and I kissed.
"Finals, then summer break and I came home. Tiffany and I were 'closer' at this point but hadn't crossed that physical line. Even though we were planning to do it. She was over one evening, just two days after the semester. Having dinner with the family. That's when you showed up. I was walking Tiffany out to the car, you were walking up, saw us kiss and … I really don't know." He pauses with a smirk as the events play out in his head which he's about to share.
Elisabeth just… can't quite reconcile the image he's painting of her with herself for the more recent ten years. She listens with wide eyes, apparently unable to formulate a response for now.
"Turned out that 'on a break' meant that we were to give each other space - miss one another - and then pick up when summer break came. Apparently it didn't mean the relationship was over, nor did it mean that I was allowed to date anyone else."
"You tore into me that night. Asking 'what the fuck I was doing with that whore?' and a lot of other colorful metaphors. Which pissed Tiff off. That then lead to a shouting match that woke the neighborhood and most of the Park. Tiff said that she and I were exclusive, that you weren't even in the back of my mind, and a lot of other things that basically sealed the deal and assured that you and I were done.. no break, no relationship, no pen pals, no nothing."
"After you left I broke it off with Tiff. I tried to contact you, you wouldn't have any of it. There was really nothing you allowed me to do. I had violated the trust, the pact and the relationship to such an extent that there was nothing I could do"
"About your earlier statement about not believing in marriage or the whole monogomous relationship thing. I think that's remenants of what happened between us. I broke your heart. And even though amnesia it stayed broken."
Reaching up to run her fingertips across the right side of her forehead, Elisabeth blows out a soft breath. "Wow," she murmurs. "Christ… no wonder you thought I was out for revenge." She grimaces. "No wonder Tiff called me a gold-digging whore." Shaking her head, the blonde is silent for a long moment. "I … can't answer to what came before. Why I'm the way I am. I know that as far back as I remember — and my first memories pick up somewhere around September 12 or 13, 2001, in the rubble of the Towers — I haven't believed in marriage and fairy tale endings." She smiles faintly. "I've been accused of a lot of things including sleeping my way into jobs, but… the truth of the matter is that I just dated casually. Friends with benefits. And… to this day, I generally pretty much like my life like that. So whatever caused it, it's… you shouldn't blame yourself, Phillip. I'm pretty happy with things."
"It's not like a long term regret that I carry on my shoulders. I just figure cause and effect are pretty much seated in our psyche. Which brings me back to cause and effect of your present situation."
"I'm not really one to understand time travel and all that timeline stuff. Nor do I want to. But from what I've gathered, the present timeline doesn't support the birth of your son, even though he's come back into the 'past' to reveal all that is going to happen. Or whatnot. In addition, your boyfriend has been displaced for his own safety, which displacement may just be a cleaver word for dead."
"Essentially, what I'm saying is that your past has nothing to do with the future. That your future is truly unknown and I cannot even fathom the hope you may have for any outcome that may be holding onto somewhere in the resesses of your mind."
"So it makes me wonder; This little dystopian fairy tale illusion you've envisioned - does it stand a chance in hell of coming true? Do you really think your boyfriend is coming back to do what ever it is you're expecting? Or is he just an excuse, perhaps a wall that you've fabricated with which to use as a preventative of getting serious with anyone? Maybe an excuse for your own reasoning for not wanting to get involved in hopes of a bigger, brighter, deal of a future?"
Elisabeth smiles slightly. "I haven't stopped living my life, Phillip. And I don't have many illusions about the future — I've already seen one future that looked nothing like the one barreling at us right now. And … if God is merciful, the actions I'm taking will perhaps alter the one that we've learned about through the time-displaced children to be something a little better than the one they came from. But do I think it'll be some paradise? Hell no. Do I think he's dead? It's possible — depends on where they sent him and what happened there." There's a pause.
"I don't know if he'll come back. Stranger things have happened — and I've actually lived them, so it'd be foolish to rule out the possibility. And I love him enough not to give up on him entirely." Elisabeth sips her wine. "That said… I'm also not sitting around just waiting on him either. I have things to do, a life to live, and it will come as it comes, Phillip. We're all where we are for a reason. I still have work to do here, so… I don't have time to just sit in a corner and mourn."
Phillip remains silent for a while. Pondering her words, coming to realizations of his own as pieces of the puzzle fit together. He finishes the glass of wine and as he rises, he notes, "I think I'd better call it a night. Tomorrow is going to be a busy day."
"All right," Elisabeth says quietly. She takes that as her cue. Standing, she turns to follow him back into the apartment. She smiles faintly, keeping her own thoughts behind her teeth. "I hope you sleep well," she tells him carrying her glass back toward the kitchen. "I, uhm… well, once the video's ready, if you want to see it and determine at that point whether you want in… that'll be fine." She's trying very hard to avoid pitfalls here, but she pauses with a hand on the counter and looks at him. "Can I ask you something?"
His own glass is placed onto the counter, he'll see to them later. Phillip offers a professional nod of acknowledgement in return to her statement about the vid. But when she gets to her question, he answers, "Of course."
Her blue eyes are on him without flinching. "Why would you want to repair a friendship… or even a relationship with someone that you think is crazy?" Elisabeth asks softly. She recognizes that in his wordings of his questions that he believes she's entirely delusional.
In a calm voice, very solid in his statement, Phillip notes, "I had to know. I sort of suspected that something was /off/. Now I know that it's more than just off, you're living in a completely different world than I am."
"Honestly, I'm really not trying to repair or enter a relationship with you. Not anymore. You've proven to me that such a thing is functionally out of the question. Not only by choice, but by condition."
"And Liz, don't get me wrong. I love you, I will always love you. But it is impossible to be /there/. The whole 'in love with' thing. You're not well. I wish I could help, but I know I can't. I hope someone, one of your so called 'friends' can." ultimately wrapping up his statements in a tone of well meaning, hopeful that she can find the help she needs.
Elisabeth nods slightly, her smile faint. "If I hadn't lived what I've lived the past couple years, I'd think I was insane too. I don't blame you a bit." She moves toward the front door, pausing long enough only to lean up and kiss his cheek softly. "Be well, Phillip."
Phillip will watch her leave, saying nothing. His feet stuck in the floor, his voice long gone. It's only after she leaves that he is able to generate, "Take care, Liz." in a whispered voice of conclusion.