Participants:
| Scene Title | Going |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Some goings on are revealed, and some goings are made. |
| Date | April 20, 2011 |
Eltingville Blocks : Brian's House
A couple of sleepless nights have passed since the Winter's house was broken into. A couple of nights and days gone by with a teenager left to tending the owner of the house as he suffered the setbacks of a concussion and burns. There'd been little in the way of conversation, questions directed at the adolescent met with evasive answers or prompting to just rest and not worry. Koshka herself was too worried to rightfully answer, scrambling to put thoughts and understanding into order herself.
The teen took great pains to make sure Brian was comfortable. Frozen veggies borrowed from Ernesto to keep packed around Brian's head and the salves and whatever else Delia had brought over were administered routinely. Her own injuries, the stitches artistically applied by a local Russian doctor were prematurely pulled, deep purple welt from the butt of a gun, other various bruises, were largely ignored after being patched by her own hands. But after a couple of days, Koshka decided to seek out that doctor. For Brian's benefits.
She appeared at the doorstop of a one John Logan, seeking out Doc Sasha but finding neither at home. Or maybe home and just not available. But there was Delia, recognized from a week gone. Koshka related a quick explanation, Brian was hurt (again). She wasn't sure what else to do for him, and needed help. Following, the way back to Winter's house was made.
"He's in the bedroom," Koshka says as she holds the door open for Delia. "I… We've been keeping frozen veggies on his head. And not letting him move around much."
Doc Sasha isn't at home but Nurse Delia is. She doesn't what happened, because no explanation would be good enough reason for a burnt out husk of a man to be getting into a fight. No amount of cursing would be acceptable at this juncture but Delia's mind is reeling with enough of them that it would make her mother roll over in her grave. Proper ladies aren't brought up to speak the language of John Logan when he stubs his toe but gosh darn if it isn't educational.
"What the heck, Brian? Are you trying to get dead before you get out of here?" Her exasperated tone and admonishing language is what greets the former replicator. Her own medical bag is placed on the floor beside him and a small flash light is pulled out so that she can take a look at his pupils. The abnormal response isn't the desired one but it's not dolls eyes, which is the best Delia can hope for. "You only have one body now, you need to treat it properly. What's going to happen if this you isn't able to get back to Samara? You think your sixteen year old self can handle a house full of kids and an expecting wife?"
The man with one missing finger, burn scars all over his chest and arms, still tender to the touch, and now a concussion slowly peers over at Delia. He's been trying to stay awake. But staying awake is hard work. Gray blue eyes cloud some as they peer over Delia, lips ajar slighlty, with a little liquid having seeped out of the corner of his mouth. He stares widely at Delia. He doesn't remember the entire incident. Last thing he remembers is copper being wrapped around his arms. And after that.. It gets blurry.
"I didn't ask anyone to break in, Deebag.. I didn't.." Blgh. The argument devolves into nothing as the man just lets his head loll slightly away from Delia. The only defiance he can manage. With a rag keeping the frozen vegetables attached to his head, and a sheet draped over him, he is otherwise mostly naked. A pair of boxers, but besides that his many injuries that he has incurred lately are more than obvious. "I'll get back to Samrara.."
Not in a rush to return to Brian's bedside now that someone with a little more experience medically has shown up, Koshka closes the front door. Then she makes her way into the kitchen, poking into the freezer to find a new bag of veggies. Looks like a medley this time, peas and carrots and corn. Very colorful. As she breaks the veggies free of each other, she makes her way down the short hall to the bedroom.
"It's my fault," the teenager says from the doorway. The bag of vegetables is extended, to be taken, but she's reluctant to go much further inside. "I need to get those things we took and take them back." Yes, it's that line again, offered in a smaller voice. "That way… that way no one else gets hurt."
Koshka's given a look, then it's turned toward Brian. "Have either of you ever actually walked down the streets of New York City and gotten held up? You give the mugger what they want and report it to the police after they're gone. Keep the heroics up and the only way you're going to get back to Samara is in a bodybag. You have one body, one. You need to make it count." The frozen vegetables are laid to the side as Delia continues a cursory examination of the burn victim, head trauma, there's nothing they can do but wait. He either dies or he doesn't. What's a little brain damage between friends, right?
Placing her fingers around the former replicator's wrist, she times his pulse. "So all this was about a few scraps of paper and pictures? Why didn't you just let whoever it was have it?" It's the sensible question.
"Oh my God." Brian brings up one hand to his head, letting it rest there for the pressure. "Really Dee-bag? You're going to stand there and lecture me? Because you have a healthy history of making good decisions." Brian grumbles, irritation flashing for a moment before sheer weariness takes over, sapping the fight right out of him. The vegetables are taken away, which brings a slight groan of protest from the young man. Almost reaching to fend Delia off. But he gives up, letting his hands plop into the mattress next to him.
Brian gives a lazy look over to Koshka before looking back to Delia. "I didn't know he was stealing things. Jesus. I thought we were being killed or something. He was a junkie. I remember that much clearly. He knew my power, tied copper around me.. Then.. I don't remember anything. After that." His eyes float over to Koshka, expectantly. As if waiting for her to fill in the holes in his memory.
"He wanted the treehouse drawing," Koshka explains, directing a defensive look at Delia. "He said it was his. Someone was with him, a… teleporter or something. And the first guy was a precog." She glances toward Brian, then back to Delia. "It's my fault," she says again, more apologetically. "Because… I could have given it back. And then Brian wouldn't have gotten hit. But then…"
With a sigh, Koshka stuffs her hands into her pockets, shoulders shrugged upward. "…The stuff has to go back. It doesn't belong here, or to us. The man who lives in that house, the one past the fence, says it's owner wants it back."
Pressing her lip together in a thin line, Delia drops the little flashlight back into her bag and closes it up. "I can't give it back, not unless the owner comes asking for it." Brian might recognize the stubborn lift to Delia's chin and the flare of her nostrils as she takes a sharp breath inward to begin a battle of her own to keep the possessions. Only hers is a more verbal one.
"Besides, what do you think your attackers are going to do if you don't have it anymore? Next time they might kill you. And how do you know that he's telling the truth and just didn't find it all and want to sell it on ebay?" Turning to Brian, the redhead shakes her head and lowers her eyes. "I can't give it back… My son came to see me, he said the stuff in the box is their proof. He said that the rubbing was my idea because otherwise Beth wouldn't be remembered. My nephew, Brad's son, wants me to give the clipping to Brad so he'll believe… and his future changed, so I'm going to do what he asks, not some random house guy. Because my nephew isn't going to be born this time around."
Brian gives a bleary look over at Koshka. "It is your fault." He manages to register. "You promised me you wouldn't go back." If it's possible for him to look menacing giving his current state, he's doing it right now. But it looks more like he's falling asleep than terribly angry. "You could have been killed. We both could have been killed." He closes his eyes and shakes his head a little bit. "Does it matter how much people get hurt around you, Koshka? Or do you still just listen to yourself?"
"You have a son." Brian lets out a foggy, "Wha?" Blinking hard once. "What is.. Who a.. what?" He then frowns deeply over at Koshka. Letting his anger slowly die down. "You're right Koshka. Though, I'm not super glad you chose when all our lives are at risk and there's time travellers and shit connected to us, to finally decide that stealing is wrong. But you're right. We should give them back. But.. we don't know anything about this lady. Or this guy in the house. It might not belong to them. They could have taken it first. We should try to talk to them but.. There are robots. Damnit. We can somehow get a message to them or something.. Dee.. Maybe you can dream at them? Ask them to come visit or something?" He gives a slow shake of his head. "But Koshka. Things are serious now, alright? You really have to listen to me this time. I'm serious."
There's a moment of hesitation, Koshka's eyes moving between Brian and Delia where she might very well be unsure of what to do next. "Technically," she says to Delia, "I am the owner. Or… one of three. Make copies, or whatever, but I need the originals back. Please." It's not begging, she's trying to compromise, knowing full well that copies won't match up for the originals but it's something she's sure of all the same. "How do you know he's not safe or okay? How do you know your son isn't the one lying?"
Brian's words stop further justification for her own thoughts and Koshka looks at him. Her mouth works, soundless and stricken. She shrinks back a step, hands digging deeper into her pockets. "The woman's name is Kitty," she tells her shoes. Not Brian or Delia, but her shoes. "And the man who lives there is Ted. He knows about the sentinels, and… I can go back there. I did it once, and I'm certain I can go again."
"Well Brian, if you look on the learning side of the coin; you could still be killed by this one because with the knocks you took on your head? I can't tell if you're going to get better or worse. It's not like we can check except for looking at your eyes to see if they normal out and we can't ask Mister Deckard to come take a look at your head for us." Delia feels a little queezy about going on that mission but attempts to mask the greenish hue to her skin with a small twitch to her lips.
It all vanishes, the stomach flips, the tiny smile, everything, in favor of a horrified grimace as Koshka speaks her piece. "My son isn't lying because he's wearing more proof. Something that he couldn't have gotten anywhere else. So no. You can kiss my ass and take copies back to Ted and Kitty. I'm going to do what my family asks me to do instead of some idiot teenager who gets her thrills watching other people take the punishment for her shit."
"What.. Wait. You're saying I might die? From this?!" Brian brings his hands up slowly to press at his head gently. And for the first time in a long time, Brian's realization of his mortality fully sets in on him. "What th—…" A deep breath is taken. "I'm the only one that remembers everything." He gives a gaping look at Delia before slowly rolling his gray blue gaze down to Koshka. Looking at a loss for words at the moment. "F-f.. Fuck!" It's practically screamed, staring up at the ceiling.
A trembling hand moves away from his head slowly. A few slow breaths are taken as his face twists in different colors of rage and agony. Before finally he manages to calm down long enough to speak. "Koshka." Another breath. "You know. That being in this family. We have to look out for each other. We can't put.. someone above everyone else. There are other kids, there is my fucking wife, and my baby. The other babies. I have to be there for them. We can't risk all this stupid shit, on you wanting to do the right thing for the first time. If your Ted and Kitty come here, I will talk to them. But if you go out to that house again…" He closes his eyes. "You're no longer welcome here."
The teenager flinches at Delia's words, as thought the blow were more physical than just spoken words. She takes a slow breath in, head nodding slightly, understanding the woman's stance. "I could…" Further thought on that is cut off from Brian's scream. Eyes wide, she looks at the man, breath held while while listening to him speak.
A tense pause follows, and Koshka toys with her lip, pressing front and bottom teeth into it. A shaking breath is draw in as a glance darts to Delia. Then back to Brian, with teeth biting harder into her lip to hide a tremble. "I'm sorry," she says quietly, retreating another step. A look toward Delia includes her in the apology. "I…" Her mouth works again, briefly trying to find the words, eyes blinking back a welling of tears. "You can bring copies… To… To unit four, at… At Harbor Court."
Koshka doesn't exactly wait for a response. Another tremble runs through her shoulders as she looks back to Brian. She takes in a breath like she might say more, but eyes fill anew and the exhale that follows shakes like her form. Lowering her head, she turns to return to the living room to gather her few belongings.
"If you're going to get up to go after her, do it slowly." Delia can't stop Brian from going after the teen. He will, she guesses, so the preemptive strike is made by the redhead standing and stalking to the living room herself. While not exactly sorry for any of the abuse delivered, the dreamwalker's posture is hunched indicative of some sort of apology.
"Listen… Bethany.." Not Koshka, it's not exactly a great time for nicknames at the moment. "I can bring them here, or at least one of them… Not physically but if I know who I'm looking for, I can bring them here for a meeting. I don't think you fully realize how dangerous this can get. Why not let Sable go to the house or let me bring one of them here to talk to Brian in a dream?"
While not exactly the time to lecture either, Delia can't help it. "You're not allowed outside the Blocks, I am, Sable is, Delilah is… but with Walter it's not a good idea. Heck we could even get someone else to go but you have to think about Brian. This is your responsibility. Someone needs to take care of him." The crossed arms and long stare down the nose is expectant, as though the dreamwalker assumes that Koshka will comply.
A groan is made as Koshka starts to bolt out. "That was supposed to get her to stay." He whines as he slowly starts to push himself up. Groaning as he does so. He reaches out for Delia's help but Delia is already gone. And so the majority of Delia's decree occurs while Brian is still trying to get himself to his feet.
Finally flat feet pad the man out into the hallway, a tired gaze going to rest on Koshka as she goes to gather her things. "Please listen Kosh. There's easier ways. Delia can dream them. We can meet that way.. Maybe you could even be in on the dream?" He looks at Delia expectantly before looking back to Koshka. "Please Kosh. I love you. Just.. Don't do this."
Koshka offers no response to her given name. She doesn't like it, for reasons deeper than just that of a preference for a nickname. But she doesn't entirely ignore Delia either. "I'm not asking anyone else to clean up my mess," she says quietly, in tones that imply a grasping for anger or anything to stave off pain of leaving. Not going back is a promise she won't make, but she will, silently, promise to not bring the problems back to Brian's house.
Moving carefully, and not just for sake of her own ignored bumps and bruises, Koshka gathers her school books and a hoodie. Her hand hovers over her cell phone in a fit of second thoughts. Fingers wrap tightly around the plastic case as the teenager swallows against a thickening lump in her throat. "Brian has Ernesto to watch him. He …he doesn't need me to…"
The rest falters, words failing as Brian appears. Koshka looks at him for a long moment then pushes the phone into her pocket. "I made it in and out alone once before. And Ted spoke with me." She looks down, ashamed and hurt. "I'm sorry. I …He's expecting me back, with… those things." With as much from the box as she can recover. There's still Sable and Delilah to find. "…I'm sorry," she repeats in smaller tones and looking to neither adult. Hugging the books to her chest, she moves for the door.
There's no way that Delia can ever remember all the way back to five years ago when she was that age. No way. As such, the redhead just rolls her eyes and shakes her head, lifting one hand to wave dismissively at the young woman. "You're asking Ernesto to clean up the mess you made by having him take care of Brian." Probably a useless argument.
Leaving the two housemates to their own, Delia plods back into Brian's room to pack up her own things, mainly the bag that she brought with her. It doesn't take more than a second or two before she's back at Brian's side and giving him an apologetic shrug of one shoulder. "I guess I'll come back, if you want. I can write a note at home… or you can come with me? It might be more comfortable for you in a real bed."
"Koshka." Brian lets out quietly, bringing his hand up to his face. "You could die here. I know you think you're invincible. But look at me. If I didn't electrocute that robot. You would be dead. So you didn't get caught by a robot the first time. You think that's going to happen again? Just like that?" He sighs quietly. "What am I supposed to tell Sam? John Logan went to get her. She'll be coming soon." Brian refuses to look at Delia while mentioning Logan, however. "What's the fucking difference if we could meet with them in a dream? Honestly. Besides you just wanting to go on a fucking adventure?" A deep breath is taken as he forces himself to calm down.
"Kosh… I'm sorry. Okay? You're always welcome wherever I am. Of course you are. But…" His hand goes up to grab at his face. "You're being…" He waves his hand in dismissal, word to be filled in later. He looks over to Delia, frowning lightly. "Thanks. If you could bring that doctor guy.. around.. I think I'll just stay here. Thanks."
Hand resting on the doorknob, Koshka glances back at Delia. There's simply no winning. Anything else the teenager says will be met with the same disregard, and whatever she chooses will have been the wrong choice. Her eyes flick past the red head to Brian. "I don't know what'll happen," she says after a long moment. "Just that… I don't know."
Giving a twist to the doorknob and stepping over the threshold, the teenager looks back once again. Apology writ across her face, but the words seem useless. "If… if you could just… bring copies for me. Of the things you took. Unit four, at Harbor Court." She looks from Brian to Delia, then lowers her eyes. The door is closed quietly behind her, books hugged tightly against her chest and head bowed, Koshka starts for the street and for the youth facilities.
"Yeah… sure… as soon as I see him I'll get him to come over or bring him." Delia's tone is more subdued and she gives a one shouldered shrug to the injured man. "Sorry, I lost my temper. I shouldn't have done it but— " Both of them needed a wakeup call as far as the redhead was concerned. Sort of like Brian's tough love when it comes to Delia and Mister Logan. "I'm uhm.. I'm glad Mister Logan is helping you with Samara, he's really not that bad."
Head bowed, she shoulders her bag and heads out the same way as Koshka pausing in the doorway to glance back at him. "You're sure you don't want to come with me?"
Brian watches Koshka's back. Practically glaring a hole in it as she disappears to the street. Slowly turning again to face Delia he shakes his head slowly. "Fuck. A kid tried to rape her back there, Deebag. And she's going back there instead of being with me. I'm such a fucking asshole. I didn't know how else to get her to stay." He sounds a little whiny, as he groans it out. "Yeah.. I'd rather stay here. Thanks."
He half turns, starting back for his bedroom. He looks over his shoulder with a light frown. "Thanks, Dee."